Gun Gale Online: Wildcard
by Tainted - Klelthin
Summary: [How far will a person go to earn their paycheck?] With the sudden emergence of money troubles, a dedicated Bounty Hunter ends up placed in a precarious dispute between enemy factions in a new region... but all is not as it seems. Beset by friends and foes alike while receiving aid from the most unlikely of people, where will she stand?
1. Prologue: The Story Begins

**Hello, hello! Tainted here, with a new story in a new category all about new stuff, never before seen and all that new goodness.**

**In case you want to figure out what you're reading and the summary isn't enough - this is set within Gun Gale Online, in a semi-alternate setting. An AU? It could be taken that way, I dunno'. Regardless, it's not focused on Kirito or his crew, and they're not the _main_ characters, though they'll pop up here and there. If ya' don't like that, I'll advise you to head off now to save yourself time. If ya' don't mind, I hope this'll meet your standards!**

**Anyway, I'll chatter more at the bottom. Please enjoy this prologue of prologues!**

**Onward!**

* * *

One must always expect the unexpected.

One should never underestimate the unknown.

One should never grow complacent, for that is when life's vicious surprises will certainly strike.

And one must always remember, Earth-shattering change often comes from the most unlikely of places.

"...Mhhhh… Get… back here…"

The room is dim, dyed a faint mixture of blue and white from a computer monitor left on, idle and unattended, the light it streams combining with the gentle glow of a mouse's brand insignia fading in and out, cycling through its rainbow array. The desk upon which these items sit is plain and fairly open, save for the tower in which the pieces are plugged in and connected, as well as a sturdy headset, and a generic keyboard alongside both of them… and a lengthy cord trailing across the floor to the nightstand.

A spacious place, in that standing opposite of the desk and its accompanying chair is a sprawling bed with a rather bland nightstand beside it, as well as an unassuming mahogany wardrobe and its matching dresser sitting side by side against one of the remaining walls, but the space is also very small when one considers that this room comprises most everything of the apartment. From the short hallway connecting this room to the door leading out into the world stem two small spaces; a barebones bathroom on one side, and a storage area on the other. Whether the latter room was originally intended to be a kitchen or a pantry goes unseen, as whatever was initially planned has been completely paved over with various shelves and drawers brimming with various knick knacks and games.

The owner of this simultaneously impressive and unimpressive space stirs upon her bed, letting out a soft sigh as she rolls onto her side, a white cylindrical pillow squished against her, her arms wrapped around it as she holds it close. Her long black hair is messy, somewhat knotted and exceptionally haphazard from a restless night's sleep. She huffs with budding frustration, leaning her head back briefly to blow air abruptly upward, dislodging some strands that had covered her face. Eyes flutter open, the groggy blue-green hazy at first as they adjust to the weak lighting, her fingers digging into the pillow with a touch of disdain. Shifting her attention over to the digital clock on her nightstand, she squints.

"...Five… fifty two? Six in the... morning… or evening?" she hazily mumbles, flicking her eyes to the monitor. In her mind, she contemplates the night prior, considering intently whether she had gone to sleep in the twilight hours or dawn. After a few more moments of deliberation, she nonchalantly shrugs to herself, deciding the topic remained fairly unimportant. Instead, a more prominent matter floats to the forefront of her mind.

"...How much do I need, again…?" she asks herself, her coherence beginning to return to her as her gaze remains on the monitor across the room. Sifting through her thoughts, she sighs with a touch of irritation as the answer comes to her. "...Still a bit, if I want to get that new one. Damn it," she grumbles, slowly rising from the covers. Flicking her attention down to the pillow, she wrinkles her nose before tossing it off toward the rest of the cushions piled at the top of the bed.

"...To eat before I get on, or to just get back to it," she ponders aloud, lifting a hand to run through her hair absentmindedly, combing through it casually. When had she last eaten? Did she feel faint? Could she go a bit longer without having to waste money on another meal? A barrage of important questions flow through her brain, to which she purses her lips and shrugs them off leisurely. "I'll live. Probably."

Sliding off of her bed, she rises to a standing position and raises her arms over her head, yawning. Stretching away her fatigue, the black raven's nest tumbles downward like an avalanche, curling around her body, drawing a soft sound of satisfaction from her as her muscles and bones let out a multitude of comfortable pops and cracks. After running through the full routine, now far more awake than before, she drops her hands to her sides and rolls her shoulders. Surveying the room with a disinterested gaze, she frowns at a passing reflective thought. Debating as to whether she ought to change some things around, she quickly dismisses the line of contemplation, opting instead to move over to the computer. Plopping down, the chair emits the smallest of squeaks at her meager weight, and it briefly crosses her mind that she very well _might_ need to eat something sooner rather than later.

At this revelation, she clicks her tongue. "...That'd be another hundred thousand or so… _and_ I'd have to brush my hair and go outside. Damn it." The look on her face mirrors her utter disgust at such an idea, finding herself in a state of conflict until her eyes widen. "Or, wait...I could call someone to deliver, right? Ah, but… I'd have to tip them, though," she mutters quickly, grimacing. That solution would just add even more costly expenses onto the pile.

Or does a delivery person need to be paid? This consideration crosses her mind, but she swiftly waves it away. She is cheap, sure, but she isn't ill-mannered towards such people. In fact, they, the delivery people, are a godsend to her; the less she has to go outside, the better, after all.

She is, in fact, something of a shut-in. Existing exclusively as a reclusive video game junkie that makes her living through an exchange system inside one of the many she plays, her career of gaming has ended up contributing much to her excessive practice of frugality. Given how much effort she needs to exert to earn enough in-game money to pay off her rent and monthly costs, as well as the rest of her basic amenities and needs, she has found that less certainly meant more, and this could be seen in all aspects of her lifestyle.

Her home is a small and cheap apartment with the most basic of essentials to support her live-in hobby-and-job. Her meals are cut down to the bare necessities, to save on both expenses _and_ time so that she can continue her work unaffected. Her figure has become skinny and unimpressive by most, if not _all_ people's standards, but she remains healthy enough to function without her low weight impeding her senses and concentration. Her sleep is minimized to the extreme, coupled with dark circles under her eyes to prove it, and her body is disciplined and conditioned to make due with as little as possible rest each day. Her hair has grown out, left unattended so that she wouldn't need to waste time nor money on having it cut.

She is the spitting image of efficiency, or rather, absolute laziness so that she can invest all of her time into a myriad of games without needing to associate with the real world whatsoever. Should it bother her? Certainly. Did it? Not in the slightest.

As such, as she number-crunched on the calculator app on her computer, she came to a world-ending predicament. Simply put, she didn't have enough. No, not by a long shot. Her eye twitches as the startling, troubling, horrible realization sets in. She overestimated her money from last month by quite a bit, coupled with incorrect math made by a sleep-addled mind. In fact, the situation is far more dire than she ever anticipated. In addition to being unable to pay for the new game she wants, she currently cannot afford the rent for the month, _and_ she wouldn't be able to pay for her subscription _and_ she would need to excessively curb her already meager meals until the end of the month. All in all, the situation is utterly bleak, and on top of that, her pride as a loyal subscriber is on the line. If nothing else, she is nothing if not prompt on her subscription payments, ensuring her relation with the game company remains intact. Once again, she finds herself briefly questioning the choices that led her to this point.

"...Tsk. I need to adjust my routine, and… _actually_ eat and sleep a little more," she concludes reluctantly, begrudgingly, exhaling. Focusing on the app again, she frowns, chewing on her cheek. "...At least another million and a few hundred thousand. After that, I only have to worry about food and the new game… Gaaaah," the nails of her left hand scratch angrily at her right arm, frustration welling in her. "I wanted to be one of the first into the new area, though! Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!" _Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp,_ goes her foot against the carpet.

Leaning back in her chair, she hazily gazes up at the ceiling. "Thissss… sucks."

Truthfully, she has considered trying to find a better alternative to paying for her hobbies, but she hates people and she hates manual labor, so there were few options for her if not being some sort of shut-in vegetable profiting off their hobbies. "If people paid more to off their enemies, I wouldn't be suffering like this," she mutters, running her hand through her hair again, ignoring that she, too, would likely pay as little as possible if she needed to place a bounty. "Why haven't I started publishing books or something…?"

After idling for a few moments in blatant unhappy disdain for the world around her and for limiting herself to a single form of income, the girl slowly sits up, moving her hand from her hair to her forehead as she rubs it tiredly. Based on the usual incomes of the bounties she can scrounge up, it'll take dozens and dozens of kills this time - and it always _has_ each month prior, too, since the farming runs she embarks on while she's waiting for new high-value marks to re-emerge always go rather poorly - to reach that amount…

...And the month is coming to an end. Rapidly.

It would be better if she begins remedying the predicament sooner rather than later, as being locked out of her account or losing her home will put the nail in the coffin. Clicking her tongue, her aqua-colored eyes move along the cords strewn across the floor to the goggles beside her bed. Pursing her lips, she sighs, shaking her head as she rises to her feet.

"...I wanted a break, but I'll rest when I'm done," she relents. Blinking twice, she looks herself over, wondering. When was her last shower? Yesterday? Yes, her hair doesn't feel filthy to the touch, at least, ignoring how tangled it is. "...Eh, I'll just deal with it when I'm done. Not like I'm ordering anything yet."

Tugging her tee around, adjusting it until it's in a more comfortable position, she moves back to the bed with a touch of fatigue in each step, a slightly begrudging attitude at her self-induced insurmountable task weighing her down. Despite this, however, she settles back onto the mattress, exhaling deeply as she takes up the headset on her nightstand, nodding to herself. Lifting it into the air, she inspects it with a slight hesitation as her memories drift back to those news articles about these things before shaking her head.

"Honestly... I'm not dead yet, so what am I actually worrying about?" she admonishes herself, smiling wearily. This transition from keyboard and mouse to virtual reality, to be connected to these fantastic worlds, is so surreal and kind of intimidating, and yet it's also a thrill unlike any other. She'd never thought it possible, but here it is, in her hands, as she's about to once again embark into that world, to that wonderful post-apocalyptic online hellhole again.

Slipping it over her head and into place, she grabs the cord, plugging it into the headset as it boots up…

"...All seems normal, nominal, all of it. Time to get to work. Link... Start!"

And at once, with her mind directing the software, the headset initiates its 'FullDive' sequence.

* * *

The shift from reality to virtual reality is actually abnormally smooth, the girl feels, as her consciousness flows alongside the rainbow myriad of lines before a flash of white… and thus, the transfer of her senses completes as her vision of her surroundings returns.

The smell of a post-apocalyptic world turned feral, every breath laced to the extreme with dystopian metal, a smoky haze, and gunpowder is one she is sure she could never find anywhere else; it's truly a unique scent that she can't ever find herself put off by, though neither can she find it _pleasant_, per say. It's unforgettably foreign, and draws her in every time. And before her, as the rest of her avatar materializes from bright light particles into being, is the expansive horizon of stony greys and dim neons - a 'spaceship' supposedly, or named more impressively, a battlecruiser. The _SBC Glocken_, as it is known - the hubworld and the only particularly notable safezone-and-capital for the playerbase of the game as a whole.

Yes, Earth turned into a pseudo-apocalyptic hellhole after some form of massive war, and this ship and its people returned once the dust began to settle… and that is really all that may as well have been left. Ruins, technological ruins, deserts, and abnormal forests as far as the eye could see once one set foot on the ground, with various humanoids, beasts and a menagerie of mechanical monsters waiting to assault the unsuspecting traveler or mercenary.

_Gun Gale Online_, Zaskar's greatest massively popular sci-fi MMO. Her favorite hobby and also her moneymaker, given how players can trade in an amount of their credits they generate on the game for real world funds. None would usually think the concept possible to pay one's bills through extensive, lucrative gaming, but Zaskar has been good about it and continues to fund her and many others for their painstaking efforts and dedication to their game.

Then again, why wouldn't they? Her gains are fair, her work true and honest - contract work and farming materials and crappy drops are recognized aspects of the game, and she is rather good at it. She always wonders, does her name turn up from time to time in small-time game news places? She ought to pay them more attention; if she gets name-dropped, it would mean more work and more saps coming to try and ambush her, after all.

She may not be one of the listed 'Top Players' or whatever most of the game's leaderboard nonsense is about, but she also doesn't play enough of the PvE content to truly make a mark anywhere beyond PvP circles.

"Plus… with that BoB nonsense, I doubt that my name would be as commonplace," she mutters to herself, sighing. How the top two contestants this time won without having to fight one another due to the clever detonation of a grenade between the two of them had completely overwhelmed any of the game's usual discussion as of late, and for the most part, had put any of the recent accomplishments of other extensive PvP players in the dust. Not that it ultimately bothers her much; making too much of a name for herself would make hunting marks every day a bit too difficult. "...Some of them already run, though, the cowardly filth," she vocally adds to her thoughts, crossing her arms while shifting her weight to her left leg, her attention drifting upward to the sky above the ship.

She had taken this game up as a whim a year or so ago, hadn't she? It certainly hadn't been something she expected, but it definitely paid the bills and helped her cut down on having to throw hours into actual part-time work. How many accounts had she been illegally flipping for her profit on other MMOs before this…? Too many, probably, she concludes. It's far better to do things legally and without worrying about her accounts getting deleted by the game's staff, after all.

"...Oi, cutie, ya' waitin' for somebody?" a voice calls out to her, followed by the approach of two male players, though she doesn't pay them much heed. They'll go away if she ignores them long enough, probably.

Regardless, she needed to get back to a terminal to verify the current posted bounties as well as whether the Top Ten list had any actively available marks that she might be able to ambush and turn a quick profit off of. If she accepted as many as were available and cleared them and any of the renewed quests for monster hunting in the relevant areas, she might be able to quickly begin shaving down on her bill for the month…

"...Eyyy, are ya' ignorin' us? That's cold, babe. That's real cold… but I dig it," another voice prompts as the two men stop before her, leering.

"...Hm?" Her attention returns from her thoughts to take note of the two, an eyebrow rising. They're still here? "...Can I help you two?" she prompts, her expression stiffening as her gaze turns colder. Judging by their outfits, they might be mid-level at best. What were their names…?

"Huh? Didja' not hear us, sweet thing? Did your boyfriend stand ya' up?"

...Tsk, their usernames don't sound familiar. Who even names themselves xXDarkestFlameXx anyways? What is he, thirteen? He doesn't even show up in the top one hundred. What about the other one…?

"...Naaah, man. Look at that frosty gaze. She ain't waitin' for a man, but now she's got us, riight?"

"...Hahaa, you're right, man. Why don't ya' swing with us, baby?"

...He's just as irrelevant. How pitiful, she couldn't even probably take them for a joyride to nick some credits off of. In conclusion: flat-out losers. Now, what did they want? Is this some sort of cliche pick-up routine? Do they think _any_ girl would go for this?

Wait, no. The world contains all kinds of people. After some of the things she's read, anything is possible. Or are all of the ones that post so lasciviously men in disguise? No, that's probably a wrong conclusion, isn't it…?

"...Oiii, babe, c'mon now. Don't just leave a guy hangin'. Don'tcha want some sorta' protection from all those bandits out there?" the one prompts with growing irritation, finding her lack of response ruffling his composure. He drums a hand on his thick overcoat, grimacing as he shoots a look over at his friend.

"Yeah, c'mon, honey. We wouldn't want anything to happen to such a cute face, ya' know?" the second continues coolly, smiling all the same.

...Haaah. People are so frustrating. Why would someone socialize with another person if they didn't have to, anyway? It's ridiculous, tiring, unpleasant. She'd take _anything_ over having to experience another person's presence for longer than she had to, especially when in the company of idiots like these. The very idea that these two think they're something interesting baffles her utterly, mirrored outwardly as she shakes her head while waving a hand in the air dismissively.

"...Eh?" "...Huh?"

Whatever. While she could just walk away, they'd probably become more annoying to deal with. Should she have used a male avatar, after all? No, too late now, anyway, though she does consider this a mistake on her part fairly often lately. How to deal with these two…?

Focusing her eyes upon the duo with an icy glare, they swallow suddenly at the sub-zero cold emanating from her gaze. She shifts her weight to her other leg, lowering her eyebrows in blatant disdain. Emitting a deep, disappointed sigh, she answers them.

"...Hold your tongues and cut the disgusting good guy routine, you two bland, shrimp-dicked, run-of-the-mill losers," she begins harshly, the built-in filter likely censoring her for the two recipients, though it bothers her not. Instead, she breathes in, continuing in rapid succession, "If you ever thought that _any_ woman would need a hand from you pathetic, posturing wastes of space, you are more delusional than you are unimpressive. You look useless, you sound useless, you breathe useless, you reek of useless. Honestly, look at yourselves. Do you think you look _good_? Do you think you're something special? Look in a mirror… wait, no, it's too late. Really, why bother? You're lost causes anyway. Go do something useful, like being fodder for another higher level player, or better yet, disconnect from the game and go outside. Associate like a normal human being, figure out how far that disgusting posturing would get you with literally anyone, and then get beat up like the roadside trash you are. No, really, it's gross, you're gross, and you'll always be gross, especially if you keep up like this. Find a better hobby. Or properly play the game. Go download a dating site or buy yourself an escort if you're that pathetic instead, you useless betas," she suggests, rolling her eyes while the two remain frozen as statues, blankly standing before her, dumbfounded from the sudden outburst more than anything else.

Pausing, her frown deepens as her frigid stare intensifies, her eye twitching slightly. "Also, learn your places like the low-level scrubs you are and learn to read a person's username before annoying them. What does mine say?"

They blink, stirring slightly at her prompt. One stares intently at her for a moment before tilting his head with a touch of confusion. "...Uh… Kuro?"

She nods. "Yes, Kuro. Do either of you know it, or do you live under rocks more dense than your brains?"

Eyes fluttering as if astounded once again at the harshness of her tone, they glance to one another before shifting uncomfortably, as if to say, 'Should we?'

Kuro doesn't miss this, however, and exhales with even less interest than before - once thought impossible, but proven plausible - as she recenters her gaze on them. "I am a player among the top one hundred in PvP circles, ranking fairly highly and am well-known among the top PvPers as well. If either of you were interested in more than feeding your miniscule, nonexistent manhoods, you would know that you have insulted me by offering me your useless 'protection' and if it weren't for the Glocken, I'd PK you both before you could even draw your weapons. Your 'guarding' spiel is even less effective on someone who actually plays this game, take note, by the way. Now, get _out_ of my way before you earn any more of my ire."

While her claim itself could be seen as rather unimpressive by others ranking within the top one hundred players of the game, and while the more obsessive PvPers would no doubt scoff at her, it served well enough in deterring lowbies and pacifists. And preventing that mattered to her, as surrounding herself with slobbering fodder was a good way to get herself labeled by her would-be clients and to find her high standards degraded, as the identity 'Kuro' was nothing if not professional.

...Her real life included, of course. She took pride in being a truly self-sufficient NEET, after all. To let underaged idiots like these cling to her would be a true insult to the dedicated gamer, and her dignity as a woman.

And, as it normally went, the two turned their heads toward one another, a silent conversation going between them before they pivot on their heels, whistling as they walk away - more likely interested in avoiding provoking her any further into another tirade rather than the claims themselves since her words seemed to go over their heads, though the reason for them departing never tended to truly matter to her - leaving her alone once more.

Waiting another moment or two to ensure that they were out of earshot, she exhales tiredly, closing her eyes while shaking her head. Truly, this day is starting out less than desirable on all accounts, and she soon finds herself hoping that the bounties and quests themselves wouldn't be as inconveniently irritating as her financial situation and would-be courters.

"...If today's marks are _anywhere_ near as annoying as hunting down and dealing with Lover Boy was, I just might consider finding a way to shoot up the Glocken," she grumbles to herself, remembering some of the many unpleasant bounties prior to today. Never before had she met a man so intent on spouting off about the impressiveness of his masculinity, nor did she wish it upon herself or anyone else, ever again. "...That much self-posturing ought to be outlawed with the death penalty as punishment," she concludes, patting down her black and red dress with hints of irritation as she squashes the memory back down.

Perhaps the fault of being approached by male players like this truly _did_ lie with her; dressing her _female_ avatar in an eye-catching black-and-red dress with long, shimmering silver-white hair tied back into a ponytail while giving herself piercing scarlet eyes did, unfortunately, make her stand out quite a bit. She hadn't originally considered it a problem, but as the playerbase increases, so too do the creeps.

How much did an apartment in the game cost…? That was one of the few places that would allow minor adjustments to her appearance, wasn't it? She remembers some discourse about it between multiple marks in the past, often detailing about the side-effects and implications behind visiting another player's abode, as well.

Her expression grows sour as she raises a hand to her arm, rubbing it uncomfortably. _Must_ roleplayers be so… well, gross? They always seem to be the most intensely invested in the finer points of these virtual reality avatars, and often end up being the ones she finds herself steering clear from the most.

"...Well, no matter," Kuro reminds herself gently, straightening her posture as her head moves up and to the side, peering at the hazy silhouette of a massive building a fairly considerable distance away. The Governor's Office, her most-used hub for her contracts, quests, ammunition replenishment and dealings. Now, if only it had a dedicated appraiser and craftsman. Finding them was always quite the chore, especially when she needed to walk out to wherever her current location in the Glocken currently was.

What had she been doing the last time she'd been on - and was that yesterday, or had the day been eaten up with one of the games in her backlog, she wonders - and had she finished her business with whoever the player was?

Making a swift, brief motion with her hand, she calls up her menus, tabbing to her equipment tab. Looking over her equipment, she grins with satisfaction. So, she _did_ upgrade her Betelgeuse 3, after all. Good, good, the increased output in damage would make initially picking off monsters and unsuspecting players quite a bit easier. Not that she would knock her Midou Kou, either, though. Nothing optical could ever quite outclass a tweaked-out, specialized live-ammunition weapon when it came to hunting down players, after all. She _did_ need to upgrade eventually, sure, but the damage output from these two weapons would more than cover her for a bit longer, especially if she continued to rely on the Dual Arms ability to supplement her damage.

With the matter resolved, she swipes downward, closing the menu. Nodding to herself, she turns, setting course for the office and its lobby, now with a subtle bounce to each step. Linking her hands behind her back, she hums quietly as she moves along, her attention going here and there, not remaining anywhere in particular as her boots _tap, tap, tap_ against the cold, polished stone slabs.

_Thmp, thmp, thmp._

Where would the bounties take her today, she wonders? Plenty of locales, plenty of players to be hunted, and hopefully, plenty of loot drops from the mobs along the way. She wouldn't pray for gemstones or anything like that, nor a treasure trove of legendary-tier weaponry, but she wouldn't snub her nose at some pricy rares or even a handful of uncommons to cover her ammunition costs at the end of the day, either. Useless for usage, but perfect for quickly making a pretty penny - _Trade Value_; a wonderfully common curse.

_Thmp, thmp, thmp._

"...?" She blinks, withdrawing from her thoughts as she takes note of the continuous footsteps behind her, seemingly carefree and clueless. She picked them up shortly after moving from where she loaded in, didn't she? Were they tailing her? No, probably just her being overly cautious. Maybe it's a newbie? Improbable, they're usually even _more_ cautious and conscientious laced with a few obvious slip-ups here and there, even if they aren't trying to sneak up on someone. A mid-tier… possibly? They don't seem to worry about much, despite still being so meager compared to the higher level players. Still, they'd usually either move faster or slower than her, rather than keeping an even pace like this, so it seems unlikely that it's just a fellow passerby. Angling her head to the side, Kuro peers back…

...And discovers a rather underdressed blonde trompsing after her, her yellow eyes trained directly on Kuro's back. Could she _be_ any more obvious? Her steps are careless, or rather, _carefree_, matching well with the stock sailor suit bikini she's clad in, paired absurdly with the silly-looking fritz helmet atop her head. That… has to be a guy playing that character. Surely. There isn't any way otherwise.

...Well, whatever. If that's how they get their kicks off, it isn't any of her business. But why are they following her? Another creep? Probably… no, _definitely_. Just like those two from earlier; idiots that need to find a better hobby. Though, that begs the question of how to go about dealing with this one…

Does she feel like talking with someone so blatant a pervert?

No. Not in the slightest. There are too many monetary predicaments to address before she would even remotely consider idling the time away, and even then, she wouldn't waste her precious time with someone like this. So, that only left the option of losing them entirely.

Maintaining pace for a few moments, Kuro returns her attention to the Glocken ahead of her, quickly calculating the fastest route to the Governor's Office. With a bit of agility, it wouldn't take much to leave this… person… behind, and fortunately for Kuro, agility certainly isn't something she's lacking in.

That spiel about the _true_ meta being strength-vitality builds might hold true for most people, but that only means that they aren't playing on the agility's speed enough. With enough trained accuracy and a reasonably moderate balance in the other stats, specializing mostly into agility could turn a person into the perfect assassin.

And she is nothing if not dedicated to the swift path before her, having remained loyal to her build from the first day. Many posers came and went with that one loser's deceit during the second BoB, but none ever stuck with mastering their newfound speed, and those who struggled with it to begin with grew even more frustrated before most of them decided to conform and reroll.

"...Idiots," she whispers under her breath, her lips curling upward into a knowing smirk. Their loss, not hers, she knows as she kicks off from the pavement into a sprint, leaving the bimbo behind in the dust.

"...Whaaa!" goes the blonde as Kuro speeds away, clearly having been underestimating her. Yes, good luck catching the wind itself, Kuro sneers internally.

And that truly _is_ how it feels, to run as fast as that one famous marathon runner, if not _faster_. The fact that technology could replicate these senses so wonderfully, so realistically… the way the air nips at her skin, of how it feels rushing through her hair, of how her body heats up ever so slightly, the feeling of each footfall as her legs work in perfect tandem; it's the beauty of being athletically perfect and untouchable without a tenth of the same cons. Stamina? What's that? Sweating up a storm? Nope. Being out of breath, gasping for air while your muscles scream at you? Not here, not her!

Yes… both the blue blur and Shimakaze herself would smile down upon her as she bounds across the Glocken, covering so many kilometers and miles as if it were nothing more than a morning jog, and this was _without_ amplifying it with any tier of her Speed Form! By that point, even the vehicles of this game were nothing - tried and true, she notes smugly, remembering hunting after and outrunning players who thought themselves clever for trying to subvert PvP conflict and any mobs pursuing them atop their bikes and cars. The exclamations of surprise and proclamations of her using some sort of cheats are always amusing enough, if not delicious food for her ego before she shoots out a wheel or rains lead upon their heads.

"...Speed for the win, speed for life," she asserts proudly as she hops onto a railing, digging her feet in to balance herself before kicking off of it, her modest form briefly gliding through the air with elegant ease as her hands confidently clamp down on a ledge a distance above her head. Pulling herself up in a singular swift motion, she vaults over the railing, her feet touching the ground for only a split instant before taking off across the stony expanse whilst paying no heed to the astounded and horrified faces of the other players nearby.

And that is how it went for the next few minutes, as well; having run through the Glocken on numerous occasions, her acrobatics and parkour were more routine than anything else as she closes in on her destination. For her, it served as a decent warmup for her inevitable day of missions in one of the many sandy or infrequently woody expanses that her marks tended to frequent.

"...And it's _always_ those areas," she mutters, contemplating it for but a moment. Never one of the frozen locales, or one of the beachlike regions, or even an urban setting; almost _always_, people only ever frequent the wide array of deserts and sparse forests. "...People should get some variety," she concludes ironically.

Shooting up the last stretch, an escalator that leads then to a curved incline of road wrapping directly around in a circle at the entrance to the lobby of the office, she slackens her pace to a spirited jog, and then as the honeycomb-styled glass doors finally come into view, a normal walking speed. Overall time wasted on such a jaunt… "Eleven minutes. Tsk, a minute and a half slower than usual."

Clicking her tongue in momentary disdain at the final result, her eyes turn to the doors. Rolling her shoulders, she exhales her frustration and proceeds past a handful of mingling players here and there. Briefly looking them over, no one in particular seems to stand out to her in any way more than the others; in one area is a teal-haired girl who stands with a black-haired male, and in another, an older-seeming, intense man with slicked-back hair and a face framed with his bushy moustache-beard stands with a girl draped in a plain red dress, and a distance from them is some pink-garbed midget and her friend, and over in the courtyard are a bunch of typical military-garbed soldier-types discussing amongst themselves and a shrimp with dark auburn hair, spectacles and some weird black smear across his face, dressed in dark green camo under a black vest. Kuro squints at the last one as he talks to the other military-grade dorks, briefly contemplating the logical explanations behind the dark-colored face paint, but opts instead to simply dismiss it from her mind. To each their own, no matter what they're into, she decides.

And so, with her conviction over the matter set in stone, her feet carry her inside.

The lobby of the Governor's Office is spacious, if not barren. Circular in design, it is open-topped with the sky visible above, framed by more of the same honeycomb-glass that the door is made of, leading down to a spherical chamber. Beams halfway down the walls conjoin in the center, forming an inner circle built to support four curved projection-screens that continuously display important announcements and information; the Governor's proclamations, event announcements or important game updates are often the most notable to see scrolling by here. Beneath it stand four AI-controlled girls upon a small circle that lifts above the rest of the room's floor, supported by a crossroads of sorts. Outside of this small intersection is the rest of the lobby - or rather, the _important_ part, in Kuro's opinion - containing various kiosks, interface panels, seating areas and counters manned by computer characters for players to utilize as necessary for most of their needs. Across the rest of the open space are a myriad of fellow users, mingling and dealing; their clamor filling the air as a noisy chorus.

Doing her best to ignore and drown out the disjointed buzz, Kuro sets a brisk pace for the quest terminals on the far side of the chamber as she rounds the outer circle, opting to hug the wall where possible to avoid any further unnecessary contact with the people present. While many players here may be prospective clients, they run just as high of a risk of being would-be courters or simply nuisances intent on annoying those around them. Children; even with age restrictions, they somehow always seem to slip through, albeit generally temporarily.

"Whoa, dude! That's a rare sniper, isn't it?! Where'd ya' get it?!"

"Heh. It's nothing special. I just happened by it while doing a quest in one of the dungeons; killed some pathetic boss and it dropped. Nothing to it when you get as good as me."

"Hrm… the stats on your shotgun need tweaking. If you swapped out the ammo cap and reload, you'd be able to add in some bonuses against humanoids and mechs."

"Wh… Did the guide change already?! Damn it! It said that these types of shotguns would benefit from ammo and reload buffs better than just focusing on damage perks, man! WTF, seriously!"

"Didja' hear, dood? There's gunna' be a new area soon, somethin' 'boutta ruined city or somethin' like dat."

"Oh hell yeah, ya' got a link to wherever ya' heard it? I wanna' learn more so we can gank the noobs that first check it out."

"Dude, my girlfriend is _so_ cute. She's wearing the new combat suit, 'n…"

"Ahhh… the close-fitting one? Daaaamn, dude…"

"She was a _he_ all along, bro! Bro! A _he_! I ERP'd with a GUY!"

"Whoaaaaaa. Ya' gay now or somethin'? Gettaway, I don't wanna' catch the gay!"

"Like, omigosh! Did you SEE Itsuki today?! He's so perfect!"

"Like, I _know_! He's, like, so dreamy! Do you think, like, we'll, like, go on a date with him again?!"

A normal day at the lobby it seems, Kuro gathers as she slips behind most of the various groups. Nothing particularly interesting, apart from that consistent, ever-changing rumor about a new area, though the news changes every time and the sources are never consistent with one another. Undue hype, probably, and nothing more. Not that they need another region yet - the smidgen of detail about these upcoming 'Forlorn Mountains' is already enough to have people more than invested once the official release for the area drops. From what she remembers, only a few select groups get access to it right now, and Zaskar has kept it hush-hush, even for involved parties.

Arriving at the line of terminals divided by small, thin walls built for privacy for each user, Kuro steps into one of the unoccupied spots, tapping on the console's surface. It lights up, briefly recognizing her user data before opening up to various categories of quests, segregated and organized by type; general missions such as hunting mobs, missions geared toward hunting down named mobs that are slightly more difficult than the average, treasure-hunting missions for retrieving specific items requested for delivery to both various NPCs as well as other players, and finally, the hunting category for tracking down and exterminating other players out in the field in swift, cutthroat PvP… or rather, _her_ category.

Sure, there are other players that also focus specifically on the PvP quests, and she even knows of a few of them by name, but she stands by the belief that when it comes to clean, professional PK, it is by _her_ hands that the task is completed. Sure, the designated PvP sniper-types are 'better' at it in that they don't need to get their hands dirty or risk their lives, but if you're sending a message to someone that they really pissed you off, it's nonsensically pointless compared to getting in their face to gun them down flawlessly, and that is _exactly_ her forte. As such, she knows she has something of a reputation for it, and often sees her own name in the lists for being hunted down - though, this has remained impossible due to both her skill and, secondly, her ability to avoid an unwinnable conflict - amidst the myriad of requests to wipe out other players and their friends.

And yet, to her surprise, the amount of posted requests today is… strikingly, abysmally, horribly, infinitely terribly low. A pathetic amount, most for pittances. If one could quantify the total sum for hunting the minimal array of players today, it might not even scratch one hundred thousand… which is insulting, more than anything.

If she took into account the expenses for ammunition spent and for the time wasted, it wouldn't be worth much _at all_. She could better spend her time grinding bosses or just mucking about with enemies in the field at that amount, especially since even the current top 100 accumulated player bounties are either still out of her league due to level, online availability, or on cooldown from already being tracked down. She clicks her tongue, muttering a curse under her breath unintentionally as her hand clenches tightly into a fist.

Why were they so low? There has been a slow decline overall, sure, but not quite so pitiful as _this_. What was the reason for it? There hasn't been any notable news about a player drop, nor has an event come up that should ultimately detract people from having grudges against one another… or is it _because_ there's a lull?

"...No, people hate each other regardless of new content. Are they just too poor…?" Kuro murmurs aloud, her gaze pensive as her scarlet eyes bore a hole through the electronic panel in a valiant attempt to discern the true reasoning behind its miniscule arrangement of PvP quests… but it yields nothing.

_Ding._

The screen displays a yellow exclamation mark icon, flashing the words 'Updating, Please Wait…' for a few moments before the list refreshes… with a new quest-!

_Ding._

As soon as the quest appears, it disappears at once, leaving the silvery-white-haired girl dumbfounded. Just… what? Why? How? Why did it… No, Kuro pauses her confusion, considering the situation with a touch of skepticism. After all, even if a hasty PvPer accepted the quest instantaneously, it wouldn't delete the quest until the target met an unfortunate end, and there is at least a few minute delay after posting a quest that the poster cannot delete it or post another one - an intentional mechanic to prevent trolls spam-posting to annoy fellow players. And even if they died, some tangible evidence of sorts has to be submitted to the poster to reap the reward. So, could it be a bug or server lag…?

"...No," she shakes her head, her expression mirroring her perplexed thoughts. Folding her arms before her, she grips at herself while grimacing. It just doesn't make a lick of sense, and it frustrates her more than usual due to not being able to even review the details of the quest. What if it had been a lucrative opportunity? Or a worthwhile fight? Hell, even an intentional _ambush_ contains room for profit if the would-be assailants had moderate accumulated bounties.

No, something _had_ to be wrong, _someone_ is doing something behind the scenes. She knew that much, after having played the game this long. Some angry child or some sketchy would-be profiteer, maybe. A sometimes-recurring issue, requiring Zaskar to eventually patch the loophole the troublemaker used. Either way, it is decidedly inconveniencing her, and is now cutting into her ability to make a living. Whoever it is, is blatant trash that she vows to hunt down at some point or another, swearing absolute vengeance in her great book of grudges.

"...Okay, first… there, an open ticket…," or so she thinks, but she watches that vanish just as quickly as the quest did, leaving her with a blank gaze and a twitching eye.

Whoever it was, they apparently knew that she knew. They were _watching_, somehow or from somewhere. Unfortunate, and problematic. Are they going to continue plaguing her, or is this just a precaution to prevent the news from spreading? A question of whether it's personal or her just being collateral. It's dangerous either way, but remains far out of her realm of solving, especially if they're able to so easily delete even a private ticket to Zaskar.

"...Doubly annoying when Zaskar has no other alternate ways to speak to them… Tsk," she complains under her breath again, emitting a fatigue-ridden sigh. So, her quest-income has been cut to the bare minimums due to some outside intervention, she can't lodge a proper complaint for it due to the prior reason, and her dues are coming up due to her own laziness; an overall poor situation to be stuck in, and one that she has no solution to.

Being a stripper's out, she doesn't have the figure for it. Is that foot fetish kick still going around…? No, she wouldn't know where to sign up in the first place, nor does she feel comfortable with doing it, even short-term. She sighs again. Things look bleak, and to apply for a real-world job _and_ get paid within the week would be rather unlikely if not impossible; she's not some magical anime character with a protagonist aura, after all. So… crime? No, wait, that's a terrible idea. Though, she _could_ go back to account-flipping for the week…

...No, there's no time, and that depends on there being buyers using legal, safe money for the transaction. Another, deeper, frustrated sigh, laced with a mixture of despair, disdain for humanity, and destitution.

"...There's no use crying about it," her words are soft, a forced attempt at knocking herself out of the sudden rutt, "so, maybe I'll luck out on looting some diamonds or emeralds, then."

Yes, she nods, raising her head. Giving up so early into the final week would only solidify the end. If she cuts down further on her sleep, and powers through the hunger pains for a day or five or ten, she _might_ be able to dig herself out of the inevitable poverty hole she's in. It isn't like there's any other readily available option right now, anyway.

"...Alright. I might as well get to it, then," her spirit urges, her voice picking up again after the brief lull. Taking a moment to sign out of the terminal, she pivots on her heel, centering her gaze on the doors. "...Tch. To hell with the roundabout," she decides, setting forth straight through the room, pushing past multiple groups despite their sudden protests, continuing only ahead to the glass doors and then beyond, back out into the lengthy Glocken expanse.

Where was the best place to farm for high-price materials that wouldn't cut too deeply into her credits? Or, wait, did she have one of those absurd photon swords? She could minimize her ammunition costs entirely if she learned how to use one of those…

"Ah, excuse me, little lady…"

But they just seem so _nonsensical._ Who brings a sword to a gunfight, anyway? It isn't like there's… no, wait, there's the rumors about that one weirdo on this game that does…

"...Miss, if you have a moment, could you just…"

No. She has her pride. Being a swordsman after all this time would leave her vulnerable to being picked off by other players, and she wouldn't besmirch her ghost-like reputation over minimizing minimal costs. Maybe, she could just use one of the spare guns in her inventory with an ammo acquired buff…

_Clmp._ A firm hand sets itself on her shoulder, causing Kuro to jolt much like a startled cat, her head whipping around to the side as her brow furrows. "Get your hands off…!"

"...Huh?" She stops mid-exclamation, taking notice of the person's attire. Dressed down fully in a dark brown trench coat paired with that accompanying fancy hat that just seems to complement it so well, a man who looks to be well on in his years - or at least _aged_, rather, since Kuro doesn't make a habit of speaking to older… well, people in general, really - based on the barely-visible graying streaks decorating his brownish-colored hair. His face, or the parts that the hat isn't doing a good job at masking, looks a bit wrinkly, and in return, she wrinkles her nose. "...Look. If you're looking for a sugar baby, old man, you're in the wrong place…"

"No, you're not my type anyway, squirt," he answers, his lips curling upward in a mildly-gross-seeming manner. "Need more meat on your bones, fill out a bit more instead of being a string bean, y'get me? Anyway, that isn't important right now, see…"

"I'm not interested in any pyramid schemes, or Ponzi schemes, or anything else, pal. Stick your 'Get Rich Quick' spiel somewhere that the sun won't shine, old-timer," she cuts him off, more than ruffled by his statement and, more importantly, his invasion of her personal space. "And, just so you know, flat is a status symbol, dickhead."

He snorts, chuckling softly as he shakes his head as if she were a brilliant comedian. "Pff… that what you kids nowadays think? You're being delusional, little missy. But, ya' know, that isn't the point, so just lemme'..."

"It _is_ the point, you geriatric patient on parole. If you're going to talk like that, I don't want to hear the end of your shtick. And what's with that get-up, anyway? Are you cosplaying the Mysterious Stranger, or something? Or… oh, wait, no, that's too new for you. I'm sorry. Noir films, I think, right?"

More laughter flows freely from the man, further irritating Kuro. Lifting his free hand, he places it on his face somewhere under his hat, presumably to rub his temples or something. Why couldn't it be the hand on her shoulder, and why isn't he _letting go_? "Alright, alright, ya' had your little tantrum, now. I get it, I was your age once, too, sport. Now, let the grown-up speak, would ya'?"

"...Ghhhhh…," she inhales sharply, swallowing her anger as she nods slowly. "Fine. Get it over with."

He shrugs, seeming disinterested suddenly. Dropping the hand on his face to his chin, he rubs it thoughtfully. "Well, I dunno'. With how you're actin', I don't think ya'd appreciate the opportunity to make some money, anyway. Maybe I'll take my offer else…"

Wait a minute. "Hold on," she says abruptly, narrowing her eyes. "Money? Start talking, you have my interest now." So he _is_ after enlisting her cooperation in a scheme, but, for some reason… No, it's not even worth beating around the bush. She shouldn't brush him or anyone else off so easily right now. She has to face it, she's poor. An offer of payment is worth hearing out, no matter where it comes from. She can't be picky, after all.

He grins, and she can _tell_ he raises an eyebrow. "Ah… reacting like that… ya' sure you're not a prospective gold digger, little missy?" He chuckles again as her gaze grows icy, waving it away dismissively. "Now, now, no need to get your panties in a twist. Just havin' some light fun."

"Waste anymore of either of our time, and I'll tell you where you can shove that _fun_," she growls again, though he continues to seem completely unfazed by it. In fact, it feels like she's dealing with her _dad_ again, which irks every fiber of her being. Why are older men always like this?

Suddenly, he points to a spot a short distance from them while moving in close, his voice dropping into a hushed tone. "Follow me so we can talk business, kiddo. And don't worry, it's your favorite hobby, anyway."

Favorite hobby…? Wait, could he mean…?

Matching his volume at once, she nods as her expression stiffens. "...Sure, alright. If you were a prospective business client, you should've said so from the get-go," she states, sighing. "My time is precious and my fees are steep for personal requests, though, old-timer. Don't expect to lowball me." A bluff, now, more than anything, but one that tends to work at upping the reward just a bit more.

He snorts, shaking his head as the two begin walking. "Yeah, yeah. Like you're getting any work right now, missy. I already know… but don't worry. We'll pay you more than you could ever make off the normal bounties."

"...Pardon?" _I already know?_ "How do you know what I'm makin…"

"Just walk. I'll tell you once we're out of earshot of other parties."

"...Alright, fine."

The man hums as the two proceed down the curving road, making a sharp turn down a ramp leading to a small space underneath the courtyard adjacent to the Governor's Office, shrouded by the shade that the concrete and stone overhead provides. Moving to one of the corners, the man smiles, taking a single step back before bowing… rather perfectly, she notes. How impressive. And annoying.

Lifting his head as he finishes his formal gesture, he nods to her. "So, let's cut to the chase. Bounty Hunter Kuro, the Merchants of Menace extend their personal greetings… and an offer that ya' surely won't want to refuse. For a meager service of doing what you do, you'll be compensated well for your time. Maybe even enough to mitigate some of your increasing financial troubles for a while, eh?"

She freezes, a chill running down her spine. How does he know about her situation, or perhaps, more importantly… what did he say? The '_Merchants of Menace_'? That one's a new name for a guild… no, wait, they're _squadrons_ here, aren't they? Still, she hasn't _ever_ heard of a name like that, and for them to know about her personal details…

"How…"

The man quickly raises a hand, catching her attention while cutting her off, his tone gaining an edge of serious professionalism. "Hold up on the questions you've no doubt got, squirt. I won't be able to answer 'em here. Are ya' going to accept our invitation, or… eh… not?" She grits her teeth as he finishes his question, knowing well that both parties understand her situation. It's sugarcoating an option of free will, painting a nice picture that she has a choice; a false reality. If they know her finances, and about her services, about the bounty hunting quests themselves, and likely then some…

...Yes, her gut tells her that this guy's connected to that bounty incident a little bit ago. These… Merchants of Menace, he calls them, have her in checkmate on this from stage one. Tsk, it seems she might've caught the eye of someone troublesome… again.

"...Fine. I accept. Where are we going?" she responds, tightening her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She needs answers, first and foremost.

The man, even in the dark, clearly smiles. "Good, good. It's been a pleasure meeting you, little missy," he says, bobbing his head. Pivoting on his heel, he makes a motion with his hand as he starts toward the ramp. "Come on then. Let's take a walk, you and me. I think you'll like where we're goin'."

"...Yeah? We'll see," she responds, hesitantly complying. Tagging along after him, he leads her up the ramp once more and to the left, proceeding down one of the many roads stretching across the Glocken's surface. Her eyes flick here and there as they walk, curious as to whether there might be an obvious destination or someone watching them, but she finds neither. Instead, they just keep heading forward, his boots making casual _thump, thump, thumps_ in contrast to her catlike _tap, tap, tap, tap_s, as though his mere presence isn't suspicious or eye-catching in the slightest. She briefly wonders if he's sane, or even human at all. An AI, possibly?

"...Hey, old guy," she starts slowly, pursing her lips. Would he even admit to it? His head leans back a minute amount, affirming his listening. Swallowing her doubts, she continues with her curiosity, "...Are you some sort of AI?"

His footsteps stop, and he stumbles for an instant. His boot slams down against the pavement as his posture stiffens, hurriedly righting himself as his head whirls around to face her, and now, an eye is visible; a blue, dumbfounded, skeptical eye that sternly gazes on her. "Haaaah? Now where the hell would ya' get that thought from, missy? Do ya' think all of your elders are robots?"

She stops, frowning. "...Not all, but you _are_ work drones, after all."

The cerulean eye rolls. "And you're a bum killin' whichever market's currently suffering while whining about this and that. Doesn't mean I think you're a robot, so why would ya' think I am?"

All Kuro manages is an awkward shrug. She hates dealing with these sorts of people. "...Just a passing thought. No need to get so touchy. Sheesh."

The man mutters something under his breath, sighing. He turns his head back around, offering her his back as he starts walking again while a hand raises to his face. "...No, though. I'm no robot, to answer your question. Alive and breathin', like you."

Scratching at her cheek absentmindedly, Kuro bobs her head and follows once more. "...Sure. Sooo… Where are we going?"

"A place."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"Yes."

"...We are?!" she exclaims in surprise, gazing around their surroundings curiously. Where is the destination? They're in the middle of a suspended road with nothing on either side, so… Wait a minute…

"...Are you messing with me, old man?"

"Are ya' done asking stupid questions?"

"If it weren't for the safezone, I'd _so_ show you a 'stupid question'."

"Ya' already showed me like, thirty. What would one more dumb question do?"

"I hate you."

"Pfff. Good, now keep movin'. We're almost there; my partners were supposed to be further up the road, but apparently we mighta' moved a bit faster than expected."

"Partners?" She raises an eyebrow at this word. Sure, obviously, 'Merchants' is plural, but she certainly found the prospect of someone working in continued proximity to this man slim. "...Are you sure they're not imaginary?"

"As sure as I am of your lack of any remote amount of a chest, kiddo."

Kuro's eye twitches at this, instinctively moving her hands to cover herself while shooting him another glare, though he brushes it off easily as the two settle into another silence. Vowing more and more to fill this man full of bullets in unpleasant places as soon as the opportunity presents itself, Kuro decides that the silence is far preferable anyway, and the trek forward continues.

It's only after another mile or so that Kuro notices what looks like an old pickup sitting by itself on the road. Perplexed, she counts two people sitting in its truck bed doing something together. Is it some American roleplay scenario, or something? Why are they just idling there?

"Ah, there they are," the man says with a tone of satisfaction in his voice, breaking the silence after however long it's been. Kuro's eyes narrow, her lips forming an unamused line as she discovers within herself very little surprise at _these_ people being the ones. More weirdos is what it means, for sure. "Now, ya' still with me, girlie?"

"Of course I am. This better have not been an elaborate trick to waste my time," she responds, crossing her arms while squinting at the truck. What _were_ they doing? It looks like they're playing with something, but…

"Ah, don't worry. If it were gonna' be that, I'd of brought you in the exact opposite direction. Nah, this'll be our ride for the rest of the trip, and they're some of my fellow associates. Say hello and leave a better impression on them than ya' did with me, alright, kiddo?"

"What're you even saying? I'm always on my best behavior."

"...Standards really keep dropping, huh."

"Shove it."

Closing the rest of the jaunt with more of the same sort of bickering, the vehicle does indeed turn out to be a pickup truck with two individuals in the back of it, playing poker together. The one on the left, a man seemingly, is dressed like some sort of thug-like bandit in nothing but black; a worn and slightly beat-up trench coat with a built-in hood and mask covering most of his face, casual jeans, a plain belt, a ribbed tee, and combat boots to complete it. Truly, an assassin of the modern age, really, and certainly someone she wouldn't want to meet in the middle of the night. The other…

"...Ah," Kuro recognizes the figure at once, her expression even less amused than before.

"...Ooh! Hey! You're back!" chirps the blonde from before, a warm smile on her face as she waves excessively in greeting. Still wearing the absurd outfit from before, she looks even more out of place next to the man, and even then some given the way they're sitting casually in the back of a pickup truck set on a road within a warship from space in a post-apocalyptic setting about shooting things and giant mechanical monsters. No, really, there are so many clashing things about the entire ensemble that Kuro's desire to log off and immediately go to sleep intensifies by a thousand.

"So, who's winnin'?" asks the man as he climbs into the driver seat of the truck, the familiar sound of the vehicle starting following shortly thereafter.

"Who'ja think? Def'nitely not 'er. Sya' got tha' girl, I see. She joinin'?" the bandit-man replies, his attention shifting to Kuro as he studies her from bottom to top. "N'much'a looker, eh?"

"Ah, good. More losers. I see why they're your 'associates' now, old man. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree and all that," Kuro interjects pointedly, her venomously icy disposition toward these Merchants deepening further. Turning her attention to the girl while ignoring whatever response the bandit-thug has, she motions at her to gather the blonde's attention. "Were you trying to solicit me like the guy was, then?"

A nonchalant shrug. "I was gonna' be the first wave, but then ya' took off like some sorta' rabbit running from a cat or something. Really surprised me, but it looks like it worked out! So, are ya' joining us or just standin' there like some sorta' loner?" the girl inquires, tilting her head.

"...So you're actually _not_ a man in disguise. What a strange surprise…," she mutters, wondering what other expectations of hers would be turned upside down today. Looking at the truck for a moment, she sighs, rubbing her arms. "Am I riding in the front or with you two?"

"In the front, probably. Don't want you falling out and splatting the pavement, would probably be a bit of a hassle," the older man replies. An arm emerges from the truck, motioning probably at her. "Hurry up and get in, we're burnin' daylight. You two, put away your cards so they don't blow away."

"Arright." "'Kay!"

"...Haah." Resigning herself to her fate, she closes the rest of the distance to the truck, walking around to the right side… before a hand holding a card abruptly shoves itself in front of her face. "Wh…?!" Jerking her head up, the blonde seems intent on giving her the stupid playing card. "Why?" she asks, somewhat annoyed.

"Take it."

"...Ghhh. Fine!" Snatching it from the girl's hand, she holds it up in front of her own face, seeing a generic Ten of Clubs card. "Great, wonderful, fantastic. Thanks."

"...Mm."

"C'mon, already."

"God _damn it_," she hisses, angrily tugging the door open while throwing herself into the seat. Slamming the metal shut, she twists her head to the side, glaring daggers at the man. "There. I'm in. Are you happy, you grouchy pain in the ass?"

He laughs, shrugging. "Not in the slightest, I need my tunes and I'd of preferred a real woman, but I've got my job to do. Ya' wanna' put on your seatbelt?"

"Screw your seat belts. Drive."

Shaking his head gently, his hand moves down to press a button on the center panel, and at once, loud rock from a few decades back blasts from the speakers as the car rolls forward. Within mere seconds, they're speeding down the road as the two in the back holler back and forth, raising their voices even louder over the already blaring music.

Rolling her head back while shoving it irritably into the headrest, Kuro twirls the card in her hand while doing her best to tolerate the hellhole she's found herself in. She's sure that somehow, even _this_, has some sort of purpose, for whatever the hell it'll be for. And that hunch alone unsettles her with a sense of wariness. Just who _are_ these guys, and why has she been singled out to be involved with them?

So many questions, so much illogical crap out of nowhere, on a week where every second matters. She finds herself hoping beyond hope that, at the end of this hellish car ride from nostalgia hell, she might get at least a couple answers to what the hell is going on… and whether or not she'll be compensated appropriately for the trauma these people are causing her.

"...The Merchants… of Menace. Huh."

* * *

**Aaaand, that's that! So, with that said; whaddya' think?**

**For some history behind the story, it kicked up after the group of great friends I'm in has gotten hot and heavy into Fatal Bullet. Being a _really_ fun little game, I've written some random fluff for it on and off that has yet to see the light of day here, but I've stuck with this one with a good bit of direction and help from my pals, and, well, here we are! I'm going to keep with this and see it go places, so I hope you'll join us on this little journey I'm crafting!**

**And I _should_ probably throw down some sorta' apology or warning or something, since, well... this _is_ my first post in... what, nearly a year? I think I'm getting back into the groove with it, though, so stay tuned and we'll see if I improve and whatnot!**

**Regardless, this is fun, and I wish you all a good day. Stay tuned for more Tainted posts in the coming days and weeks; I'm making a valiant effort at keeping at it!**

**Tainted out!~**


	2. Chapter 1: A Russian Introduction

**Hello, hello! Tainted here again, now with the first _official_ chapter of the series! The last bit served as a prologue, the starting point, so... well, this is where the plot properly begins!**

**I won't say anything beyond that, since, well... I just won't. Go on and read it, alright?**

**Onward!**

* * *

If there is one thing that Kuro found that she despises more about the human race than anything else, it might very well be their innate ability to make noise at irritatingly high decibels, at such volumes that she suffers a headache gradually overwhelming her, her eardrums beginning to rupture as she unfortunately experiences the full process of going deaf. Yes, it very well _has_ to be the perfect talent that any normal person, or frustratingly in particular, the extroverted, displays - whenever, wherever, _however_, these menaces of society can always overshadow even dozens of nails against a chalkboard.

How long will this playlist go on, she wonders? Her memories of the few roadtrips she was coerced into with her family keep rolling to the forefront of her mind, an uncomfortable and unpleasant nostalgia in thanks to the music being the very same myriad of songs that her parents loved to play. Not that they are bad songs, actually; they're rather catchy, but that isn't the point. Much like the incessant habits of her parents, it pertains more to her fellow passengers and driver massacring… singing along, or how they have set the dial to max volume so that the windows, not just of the truck, but even the windows of buildings in the distance tremble, so that the entire vehicle itself shakes from the eardrum-rupturing volume of _AC/DC_. Yes, she could have done better without listening to others sing along to _Thunderstruck_, especially when they're so horribly tone-deaf.

"...Could you _please_ turn it down?" she snaps, though even _she_ can't make out her own voice under the overwhelming tidal wave that is blaring 80s rock. It's been an unforgettable learning experience for her; this pain in the ass has somehow succeeded in uploading over thirty songs from decades prior, _copyrighted songs, she's sure_, and has had the pickup truck playing them seamlessly one after another, as if it were through an actual CD. She didn't know that GGO supported something like this, and she is completely positive she will never forget it, either.

...Not that the nostalgia from this drive has been _all_ bad, either. While she may have parted on rather poor terms with her family those few years ago, she doesn't _actually_ hate them. There is just an arduous struggle at connecting with them on anything, especially given their polar opposite views on video games amongst countless other things. After the last lecture about her love life, she resigned herself to the bare minimum of contact. But, that didn't mean that the carefree drives through cities and the surrounding countryside were horrible. In fact, they were kind of nice, even… in contrast to the company she reluctantly suffered, at least.

She cannot help chuckling bitterly at her reflections. This absurd group of '_Merchants_' has triumphed where even her own family can't; she has discovered more intolerable people than them, by leagues and bounds. What a nightmarish riot it is! If only there was some dependable lead to understanding how much longer she had to endure this impossible test of her willpower, patience, and most importantly, hearing. So many bland buildings have gone by on this endless, barren stretch of road that she begins to wonder whether they somehow turned around or have been making laps like in one of many famous go-karts games. She wouldn't actually put it past these peculiar earsores, either, even despite having only known them for… what, a few hours now?

It doesn't matter, regardless; her dissatisfaction amounts to nothing to these people, to her further displeasure. Instead, she should think about something else, something unrelated, such as… is the Glocken this gargantuan? Did Zaskar create roads that stretched this far out? Is it for future content, or is it truly just for authenticity? Were there other players out here? Was there civilization at all? What does it mean to _be_? Is this some sort of soul-searching road trip? She has an ever-expanding plethora of questions, and because of how earsplitting the music is, she can't entertain even a vague answer for _any_ of them, and it continues to infuriate her to no end. He's doing it on purpose, isn't he? He has to be!

"Are ya' enjoying the music, missy?!" The old man's voice booms over the music, managing to overwhelm it by a mile, much to her poor ears' horror. Kuro winces, shrinking in her seat in a feeble attempt at eluding the racking noises reverberating through her. Instinctively, she raises a thumb, and he nods in satisfaction. "You're not all lost, then! Great! Why don'tcha' sing along with us?!"

Opting against an answer, she found herself vehemently refusing to scream over the music. Instead, she decides to casually shrug, letting him make of it what he will. Sweeping over the buildings ahead of them again with muted hope at spotting their destination to no avail, she returns to seriously considering where in the Glocken they could even be. Swiping with her finger to call up her map, she gazes at it with narrowed eyes, disbelief floating to the forefront of her mind. The Governor's Office couldn't be further away; the _exact opposite end of the map_! Miles upon miles away! It might even take half a day to get back, and that's being optimistic!

They _wouldn't_ just dump her here and drive off, would they…?

No, they know too much, acting so seriously about the matter itself that the possibility of it is nil. There is too much risk for them in conversing with her like they have for it to be an elaborate prank. She's just being paranoid, that's all.

_Crazy Train_'s volume suddenly drops to a reasonable level, much to her surprise. What…? Snapping from her worries back to reality, she tilts her head toward the radio, somewhat puzzled. "Alright!" Jumping at the sudden re-emergence of the man's clear disregard for her eardrums, her eyes jerk to the side, glaring indignantly. "We're almost there, little missy. Before ya' ask any questions, know that we won't be the ones answering them. You're gonna' be headin' straight inside to meet with the boss, alright?"

She blinks, and then blinks again. Wait, what? "Who's the b…?"

"Up, up, up! What did I say about questions?" To her chagrin, a gloved finger is wagged at her in the same way that one scolds a pet. _It's not worth responding, it's not worth it. He won't understand anyway._ Painstakingly swallowing her imminent outburst, Kuro reluctantly sighs and weakly nods. "Ya' _do_ learn. Wow!"

"Uh-huh," she answers passively, ignoring his snappy remark. "Fine, if I'm not allowed to ask about that, at least answer me this. Are we almost there? I can feel my legs going numb and my patience waning."

His face falls, clearly troubled. It really irks her, but she wrestles it into submission, along with the urge to shove him out of the vehicle. Oh, how nice it would be… "Ya' don't, actually. A damn shame. Well, you're right anyway, that one's fine. It's just up and on the left, see?" He points ahead of them, surprising her. He's actually humouring her? Raising an eyebrow at him, she follows the gesture to…

...A rather rundown pub. No, that doesn't begin to describe it; it's unassuming, more than anything, but looks like it's certainly seen better days… like, thousands of them. Built in an old, weathered brick style, it definitely stands out from all of its dilapidated concrete peers, but not by much as but the windows are smudged and dirty and the canopy over the entrance is in extreme disrepair. At least the hedges out in front of it are alive and well, though, she notes. Still...

"Are you messing with me, old man?"

"No. That's really it, girlie." Scrutinizing his face for any hint of lies, it truly appears that he's telling the truth, but…

"Honestly?"

He wrinkles his nose. "That's four questions after I told ya' not to ask them. Ya' just like that?"

"Yes, I ask questions when the people generating them are inept, or when the 'answer' seems suspicious, and you people have been acing both areas with flying colors," she flings back at him, exhaling some of her frustration before continuing in a rage. "If not for your continual interference, I might have already made a few hundred thousand credits, actually, so I'm being _very_ patient. Be grateful."

"A few hundred thousand? Pffft. Pocket change." Snubbing his nose at her claim, she watches his eyes roll in clear disinterest. "If that's all you're after, you'll need a new jaw."

What does he mean by that? Arching an eyebrow at such a bold claim, she considers his response but then remains silent, casting her gaze back out of the window beside her. Whether he is bluffing or is being serious, as always, she can't tell. However… regardless, the implications she deduces behind the statement are more than enough to renew her patience. If this truly _is_ just a few measly bounties for more than a few hundred thousand credits, it would be worth persevering for a bit longer. If not…

Well, she's sure she can find _some_ way to report these guys and maybe even score some financial compensation for exposing some suspicious cheaters interfering in Zaskar's game. With luck, it might even net something for her time spent on this abnormal venture, and hopefully it would re-enable her ability to see the newly-posted bounties before she's out on the streets.

"Whatcha' thinking about, girlie?" Ah? Who is he asking… No, wait, it's obvious.

She blinks, focusing her attention on the man again. Was it so obvious that she was in contemplation? Unfortunate, she needs to subconsciously control her expressions better, then. Raising a hand, she waves him off dismissively. "Nothing that you need to worry about. Just what weapons I would be better off using and whether I need to store my spare equipment and money, that's all." A lie, sure, but also a truth. She always makes sure to take the target and environment into consideration before each bounty, to better ensure mission success. After all…

_Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer._ A quote she sticks by regardless of the difficulty of the mission; her professionalism is true and it has saved her multiple times before. Was she expecting to fight a low-level player? He might have friends. Should she be expecting an open field? The mark could aggro a wandering mob, or have an ambush set up just in case, or may already be being hunted by some of her less-than-friendly rivals. These, in addition to their reflexes, equipment, and how much of an element of surprise still exists before plotting her attack, were all key pieces of information that she needed to consider if she wanted to ensure success.

Yes, she had to make sure to never get _too_ cocky or complacent, even despite her level and equipment. And, of course, she always needed to ensure that she wouldn't lose anything valuable or irreplaceable if something went wrong or if she failed, as well as making sure that her inventory wouldn't be too full if she were to take something incredible off of her prey's corpse with her. Often erring on the side of caution has led her well as she's played through various games, sometimes being the sole factor in a narrow victory, and she'll continue to adhere to pursuing a careful nature wherever it was warranted until something goes catastrophically wrong…

Such as riding with a bunch of obnoxious, offbeat strangers that have managed to get ahold of some of her personal details and financial situation through means she still did not understand. This is one of the occasions where she both kicks herself for being cautious by not pressing these people for information immediately where she could have had some leeway, and for being bold enough to have not assumed this entire situation could occur. After all, to not expect people to be interested in her… She buries this bitter line of thought before it can escalate, redirecting her attention back to the pub. Ah, they arrived, and the car had been turned off while she was in thought. A lovely, blessed change.

"So, ya' done with your mental prep and all that jazz? We're burnin' daylight, little missy," the man prompts her, drawing her gaze back to him. His hand is resting on the door handle, his bushy eyebrow arched. He seems to have been observing her, waiting patiently for her to return from her supposed strategizing. How nice.

"...Mm. For now, yes," Kuro answers flatly, half-lidding her eyes. The way he had asked irked her, truthfully, and so, she chose to return the favor while answering his derisive question. "Though, I'll be sure now to burn another hour or two so that the meeting will stretch past your curfew, too. Isn't it already past your bedtime, anyway?"

Unsurprisingly, he snorts at her while waving a hand in disagreement. "Nope, nope. That's in another four hours, and I'm not escortin' a slug. I'll carry you in if you're going to be disagreeable."

"That's harassment. Touch me, and I'll make a scene."

"Fire! Fire!" Cooing the word mockingly while opening his door, the man laughs at her and shakes his head. "Ah, look at that. Look at all these people comin' runnin'."

He is in fact, being facetious. She understands this well, so her frigid glare as she tugs the handle is _definitely_ warranted. However, just as before, the man seems completely undeterred. Why do her responses continue to feel so… worthless? Sliding from her seat onto the road, she scornfully voices her displeasure to him. "Why are you so insufferable? Is being called an AI your only trigger? Are you the only testament to why duct tape found an extra use, or are _all_ of you going to be like this? Do I need to pre-emptively equip some earmuffs… Could you _stop laughing_?"

As she had been finished her jab, he snorted before devolving into laughter as if it were all one great joke. What is _wrong_ with him? Tilting her head to the side as she proceeds around the vehicle, she finds him rubbing his eye clear. Was it really that comical? Was she _really_ in for meeting more people like him, and the other two? Did she hit the nail on the head? It really sets the stage and the mood for her. Then again, the entire sequence of events has been a running gag of continuous, frustrating misfortune for her today. The headache was just a part of it, now. Or is it from some lingering, tingling pangs of hunger? Ah, what time is it, now…?

"Don't worry, girlie. The rest've the Merchants aren't like me. We're all colorful birds, though, so you'll have a lot of fun gettin' to know 'em. Ah, 'n one question I can answer as we head in… _Farewell of Slavianka_." Emphasizing the last three words pointedly, he surprises her. Was she supposed to take something from his 'answer'? It just sounds like a song title spoken in English.

"Uh, sure…?" All she can do is nod, pretending to understand. But seriously, did he not know what the last song he had on was? It certainly wasn't some Russian-sounding song, or, well, at least she was _fairly sure_ that _Dead or Alive_ wasn't some Ruskie band, however her knowledge of English-centric music may be a bit off the mark nowadays. "Don't argue with him, it won't help," she repeats to herself under her breath over and over, treating it like a mantra.

"Well, c'mon. Let's get this over with. While I don't mind listenin' to your angsty youngster crap, I'd rather go have a drink and leave you in the boss' care, 'specially since the others already went inside 'n we're runnin' late," he says suddenly, heading into the pub. Was it just her, or was he acting a bit more serious now that they had arrived? Punctual, even? Was the guy ruling over this guy something special, after all?

The king of crass idiots. The very notion sent her uncomfortable sentiments, but she makes a sound in affirmation, tailing after him silently. Whatever awaited her would surely be another test of patience, but perhaps…

"_I snova v pokhod truba nas zovyot._

_My vse vstanem v stroy,_

_I vse poydyom v svyashchennyy boy!_"

She blinks, and then blinks again as they draw closer to the door left open. What was that? Did she just mishear…?

"_Vstan' za Veru, Russkaya zemlya!_

_Vse my – deti velikoy Derzhavy,_

_Vse my pomnim zavety ottsov…_"

No, that is _definitely_ not Japanese, nor is it English. She'd be able to understand it if it was either, but _that…_ That is some other language. She can't help as the words escape her lips, unable to mask the bafflement blatant upon her face. "What… the hell?"

She feels a hand patting her on the back, the canopy going over their heads as the interior of the pub replaces the dull grays of the rest of the Glocken. Spoken honestly, she discovers it quite a bit more rudimentary in comparison to the sci-fi setting that the rest of GGO uses. In fact, it might even be from the current year, or earlier than that. After all, the walls are clearly wooden, the intricate and carved moulding covering them the same. The floorboards are polished, shining and shimmering in the way only stained boards can, leading in three different directions.

Straight ahead, she sees the stairwell. Even from the entryway, the dark shadows hint that it goes far downward, likely into the basement. Letting her eyes linger on it for a few moments, she files it away in the back of her mind alongside her gut instinct that she'd have to go down it later. After all, it'd be par for the course.

To her left, a massive lounge full of couches, tables, and various miscellaneous decorative plants ranging from tall trees to small bushes scattered along the walls. Various figures dot the many seats, though she quickly notices that nearly all of them are ones that seem visually similar to that one piggish man that rode in the back with them… and that they're all passed out. She never _did_ get his name. Actually, she never got _any_ of the trio's names, did she? She frowns, only now realizing this blatant slip-up in case she needed to make a legal report. Well, better to notice it later, rather than never…

Her eyes fall upon a girl with her back against one of the seats, having taken one of the couches by herself. Her rifle sat beside her, propped up and supported by the seat; a sniper rifle with some imposing presence to it, Kuro notes, that didn't entirely seem fitting for the fairly petite teal-haired girl it accompanied.

Yes, teal-haired. Clad in green and white, she certainly fit an image of a sniper in how it made her seem reclusive and quiet, and her isolated seat and posture _did_ support that. Arms crossed, head down, face hidden behind a white scarf… is she roleplaying, or is that entirely unintentional? Either way, Kuro raises an eyebrow, briefly wondering where she had seen that get-up before…

"Well, y'have fun now. I'm gonna' go grab somethin' to drink, missy. Someone should come collect ya' sooner or later…" The man interrupts her thoughts, patting her shoulder. Offering her a smile as she turns her head back to face him, his attention is already off to the right. She watches curiously as he inhales, wondering what he's doing for a fleeting moment before it clicks. Instinctively raising her hands to her ears, the voice booms over this small barrier regardless, making her wince, "**Oi, I brought the third, lads! We've got 'em all, now!**"

"Aaagh…" She groans, weakly glaring at the man as he flashes her one last grin before moseying to the right. Following after him, she finally peers in, her eyes widening in a mixture of confusion and horror. "What in the…?"

_Aggressively Russian._

If there were ever a time where she felt the phrase could be used, this would be it. After all, this room, the spitting image of a tavern, complete with a bar chock-full of booze, a massively sprawling wooden counter before it, an arrangement of dozens of barstools, and along the wall, just as many booths… well, it brimmed with the men dressed in black, singing - in a dysfunctional, loosely-synchronized chorus, she takes note - in what could only be Russian. She notices a jukebox along the back wall, beside an oversized portrait of some Russian noble or whatever - royalty, she knew, but not a name to match his fluffy moustache and highly-decorated coat - playing some booming, excessively-loud tune that resembled that of music she could visualize soldiers marching to… ah, wait a minute. Music, huh? Now the old man's 'advice' made sense.

Did she walk into a Red bar? Was she scouted by Russians? She felt a cold unease spreading over her, genuinely unnerved that she somehow attracted the attention of some dangerous people. They _reeked_ of Russian influence, and it gave her chills. She and Russians wouldn't mix well. Not by a long shot.

No, they were unlikely to be true Russians, considering the region-lock. Though, that meant that they were likely to be extremist fanboys, which were even worse, even more unpredictable. What would a Russian wanna-be have her do? Nothing good, she was sure. Getting involved with fanatics would be far more trouble than it could ever be worth. She contemplates pivoting on her heel, departing immediately, though her eyes catch a figure amid the cheering, jeering men.

"Ah. An even more troublesome person," she notes aloud, narrowing her eyes. Why was _she_ here? The figure is clad in purely grayish-black, her military attire expertly sculpted in the exact image of a member of a special operations team, pairing well with her dark hair. Her arms are wrapped around two plastered men roaring and chortling over some nonsense story or another about their exploits in what sounds like blatant terrorism to Kuro, though her face, rather boyish as always, stands out well in contrast between them. One could mistake her for a man from how visually-androgynous and flat she was, if not for knowing her prior. Yes, Kuro knew her all too well; a wolf that liked to frolic in sheep's clothing while being avidly, overtly 'friendly' to anyone she took a liking to. A long-time rival in the PvP circles, she briefly scanned for the girl's usual partner, but found no signs of her.

"...Ah!" Ah. Kuro flinches, her blood running cold. She had noticed her, hadn't she…? Tsk. She immediately dislodges herself from in between the two men, leaving them looking surprised and bewildered at her sudden departure. Pivoting on her heel, she grins an 'innocent' grin, sauntering toward the entrance, toward her. A hand raises, waving pleasantly as the girl nods. "Hi, hi, little Kuro. It's been a while, hasn't it~? Look at you, so small and cute. I might just…"

"Can it, Clarence," she cuts in, sighing. Folding her arms in front of her, she gazes at the girl with unabated dissatisfaction. "I would say that it's a pleasure to see you again, but I'd be lying."

The girl makes a show of taking offense, dramatically pressing a gloved hand to her heart. "Ah, my heart! How cruel, how cold! But," she grins slyly, winking at Kuro. Undeterred, as expected. "As expected from such a frosty little girl. The sharp tongue and cold stares really get a person going, you know~?"

"Ah, is that so? Then I just won't speak at all," Kuro responds robotically, turning her head away to focus on the bar again. Why was there a bar in an online game, anyway? Would alcohol even work here? Ah, and what was the drinking age in Japan, again…? A little less than America, isn't it? Not that it matters anyway; she is plenty legal, though she can't help in wondering whether the men there would agree.

...Well, it doesn't matter anyway. She never took to the stuff in the past, and she wouldn't now, either. Making her brain dumb meant her reflexes got slower and she could make stupid decisions, and as such, that _wouldn't stand._ She wouldn't let herself be put in such an unpleasant spot for a bit of a buzz-like feeling. Thus, it became a solemn vow to not drink. It isn't also in part that she had to show ID every time she tried at all. No, not in the slightest, even despite how they never believe her and usually call it a fake ID.

"There are people that go for that too, you know. Quiet and icy is kinda' popular~!" Clarence points out, smirking. Drawing from her thoughts, Kuro cannot help herself from shooting the girl a pained look. Must _all_ of their talks go like this? Where does this girl find all of her energy, her drive to flirt? It would be astounding if it isn't so exhausting.

And this is why she doesn't like sociable people, either. Too quiet and brooding, and they have problems or are some edgy, haughty jackass. Too loud and outspoken and friendly, they send chills down her spine while making her want a pair of earplugs as she rips out their voicebox. It is a fine line, a pickiness that did a far better job explaining her very minimal amount of contacts or 'friends', given that she hadn't met too many people that she enjoyed the continuous presence of. And this one, being in that 'too outspoken' group, definitely is someone she could only stomach in small doses.

Hoping to change the subject, she makes a show of looking around. Motioning with a tilt of her head at the people lining the bar, she makes her inquiry. "So, know anything?"

Clarence's bright, playful expression falters for a moment, her eyes following Kuro's gesture. A few seconds of silence pass, the flirt's smile disappearing as she shrugs. "Not a clue, but they seemed insistent and promised that I'd have a good fight." She pauses, narrowing her eyes as her voice drops. "And some other small details, but I assume your being here is for the same reason."

Yes, _this_ is the demeanor that Kuro appreciates. Seeing her speaking more normally, like a human being rather than a pervert, certainly made her far more stomachable than being flirted with every moment. And thus, her frosty appraisal of the girl settles down, a stony, neutral disposition replacing it. Sighing, she runs a hand through her loose hair, "I'm not going to get into it, but, yeah, my hands're tied and they're paying well enough." It felt strangely reassuring to know that another person had been strong-armed into coming here. At least it isn't an isolated incident.

Clarence nods at this, seeming to understand without pressing the matter. "Mm, I hear ya', I hear ya'. Still, so it's gonna' be combat after all, huh? It'll be fun~!" she smiles, seeming satisfied by her conclusion.

Not that she is wrong. Combat remained her main draw and chief income while playing this game, and having a halfway-reliable ally like Clarence would hopefully wrap things up before it got too weird. Still, it would be better to leave that unsaid, to avoid risking inciting the flirtatious side of her once more. As such, she simply shrugs nonchalantly, looking over their surroundings again before falling on the teal-haired sniper. If Clarence is right… "So, then. Is she involved, too? Did you decide to talk to her to figure it out, or…?"

Following Kuro's gaze, Clarence raises and lowers her shoulders, lifting her arms to further emphasize her reaction. "Her? That's Sinon, apparently. The hotshot sniper, if you need a reminder. She's real cute, but real quiet. Didn't want to join us for our caroling and merrymaking over here, seems like a real unfriendly type. Like you, but… mm… well, you'll see."

"Like… me? Skeptical, doubtful at best. I'm one of a kind, after all," she remarks with a touch of dry humor, but also with some conviction. While she found herself perfectly fine as a person, she wouldn't wish her daily life and existence on anyone else. After all, if the world was like her, no one would leave their houses and she would truly starve.

She sees Clarence smirk at this, but the tomboy doesn't actually say anything. After a moment of silence, she nods over at the girl again before smiling at Kuro. "Well, like I said. She's Sinon. If ya' make any more headway, let's all get together for a nice girls-only chat… and you should really add…!"

"Absolutely not. I don't need lechers nor stalkers following me around. Find a different unsuspecting prey." Shooting her down immediately is rather fun, she notes, as Clarence pouts at the certainty of her rejection.

"Hey, I'm not _that_ bad. But… fine! Maybe next time," she decides, smiling. Well, at least she never got dramatic about it. Waving to her, Clarence pivots on her heel, looking as though she was all too eager to rejoin the men at the bar. "I'm gonna' go and listen to a few more of the missions these guys're running, though. They've been disabling tanks, blowing up munitions, doing some awesome stuff, y'know? You should join us and share a drink with me once you're done hitting her up. Ooh, and let me know if it gets steamy. I'll join you two whenever~! Anyway, ciao~!"

Watching her hurry back into the bar, Kuro waits until Clarence roars, joining the Russian chorus once more. Pursing her lips at the men who now seem to be dedicating their hellish voices to the man in the portrait, she truly feels a passing moment of enlightenment; running solo has been the smartest decision she ever made. This game is populated by weirdos.

Now… Sinon? _That's_ unexpected. If Kuro's memory and Clarence's reminder were accurate, she was one of the two contestants that ranked first in the most recent BoB. Yeah… Yeah, the one with the double-suicide-by-grenade shtick that has _still_ been a topic of great interest for most people on the Glocken. To find her sitting by herself in a rundown pub operated by hardcore Russophiles… well.

"It's a small world after all," she sums up, her lips curled upward in bitter amusement. Hopefully, she's less of an oddball than the rest of the PvPers she's met, though. Turning her attention to the teal-haired sniper still sitting rigidly in the center of one of the unoccupied couches, she needs an optimal way to break the ice. After all, she didn't really want another enemy out in the fields. She already had dozens of those.

How would she go about it, she wonders? Not knowing much about the girl prior to now was a moderate inconvenience, considering how unlikely it was that she actually _was_ like herself, despite what Clarence insisted. Though…

Well, the best option was to simply play it by ear. She wouldn't accomplish anything by standing around like some giddy school girl. Rolling her shoulders, the petite gamer wills her budding anxiety off, shoving it into a closet before locking the door. At the end of the day, she's just another player playing the game, and ideally one that may know a bit more about these Merchants. Yes, best to just get it over with. Gently breathing in, she allows her visage to settle into its usual cold, aloof demeanor before setting a brisk pace for the sniper amidst the crowd of snoring patrons.

_Tp, tp, tp._ Even with how soft and silent her shoes were made to be, the impact against a wooden floor is palpable, the boards releasing gentle creeks under her. Is it a design choice, or just coincidence, she wonders to herself? It surely can't be due to her modest weight. Or rather, it _better not be._

The teal-topped head shifts slightly as Kuro approaches, revealing hawk-like eyes of the same color that set themselves squarely on the silver-haired girl's form. Hearing her exhale slowly, the girl's attention seems to scan the tables around them before returning to Kuro herself. Breaking the silence first, Sinon's voice is level, suspicious. "Are you with these people?"

An interesting question, Kuro found, if the one making such an inquiry was blind. Offering a reply that suggests such, she lets her head list slightly to the side as she fires back skeptically, "Does it look as though I am?"

The sniper's expression falters for but a moment, her thin eyebrows rising reflexively. "...No, I guess not. Then," she pauses, her gaze intensifying as she scrutinizes Kuro more intently than before, "who _are_ you?"

"Would you normally ask for an introduction before providing your own?" Feigning offense, Kuro narrows her eyes on the sniper. She was trying to gauge her; weighing her personality and worth out, as well as her mettle, all the while reeking of hostility and distrust. And now, Clarence's odd comparison made sense.

"...Mm, you're right," Sinon concedes with seeming reluctance, her intense gaze becoming sterner. In a swift, decisive motion, the holographic screen of her player card appears, briefly displaying her status and name. "I'm Sinon, the best sniper in Gun Gale." Following her introduction, her hand, notably delicate and fragile comparatively even to Kuro's, sweeps away the card casually.

The _best_, is it? A bold claim, to be sure, given the variety of combatants that Kuro recalls squaring off against. Tough, intimidating people that gave her a good run for her money, or even occasionally outsmarted her. So, hearing Sinon's words, Kuro cannot help but find the claim suspicious. Is it pompous arrogance or fact, she wonders, before momentarily considering the girl's victory in the BoB. Sure, it left room for bragging rights as irrefutable evidence behind her boast, but… No, more than anything, she doubted it, and she doubted her ability to establish a good rapport with this girl, as well. Arrogant people are too much of a hassle to continually tolerate.

Ah, she was getting distracted. She blinks, taking notice of the sniper's penetrating stare upon her, briefly confused by it. Why was she…? Oh. Right, she is supposed to introduce herself in return now, isn't she? Should she even bother? Contemplating her answer for a few moments, she shrugs nonchalantly, shifting her weight to one side. "I'm Kuro. I'm usually described as a speed-fiend, if that helps you at all." She briefly considers mimicking the girl's offhanded gesture with her player card, but dismisses it when she notices Sinon already nodding slowly.

Leaning forward, Sinon places her elbows on the table while linking her hands before her face, eyeing Kuro carefully. "I've heard of you… I think. One of the people still using a dedicated Agility-build, aren't you?"

Kuro gives her a sound of affirmation at this query. Considering the girl's words and tone, she decides to elaborate upon the point and then clarify her stance. "Mm. One of maybe two or three, with no intention to ever switch, regardless of advice offered." She knew of the criticism surrounding the stat, and of how the community snubbed their noses at anyone who invested in it. It was still fairly common for most people to put in their two cents to whichever players remained dedicated to prioritizing their agility over any of their other stats, and truthfully, it grew to be more and more obnoxious each time. She refused to listen to another such lecture… _especially_ from this girl.

Sinon raises an eyebrow, though apparently has nothing else to say about the matter. Instead, she moves her head slightly to the side, peering into the adjacent room. "Do you know the pervert over there?"

The pervert…? Ah, she doesn't even need to follow the girl's gaze. She definitely means Clarence. Raising a finger to her chin, her memories of the first time she had crossed paths with the woman float to the forefront of her mind. Truthfully, though, they were memories she would rather forget; having stumbled across the woman while out on the prowl for her marks, Kuro ended up with a dogged stalker for over an hour while suffering endless attempts at coercing her into a variety of physical interactions and responses. While it turned out fine due to Clarence ultimately deciding to help her pick off the targets, free of charge, it didn't make up for the discomfort that still dwelled within the recesses of her mind. All of it was whimsy, Clarence claimed then, though she still believes that it was blatant efforts at trying to curry favor and get somewhere with her, rather than anything else.

Regardless of what her intentions may have been though, the incident cemented in Kuro's mind the understanding of the girl being the epitome of-no, the very _definition_ of an unpleasant lecher. With this estimation firmly in hand, for the months that Kuro has known the deviant, their knowledge of one another certainly exists… but she actively makes it a point to steer clear of Clarence whenever possible, despite the latter's best efforts.

And so, as she wrinkles her nose, she nods unhappily. "We share a history, you could say, though she and I aren't friends. Professionals working the same profession, if anything."

"...Huh…" Sinon's response appears brief, emanating a lingering doubt about her words. "Professionals, is it…"

"Mm. Professionals," Kuro repeats flatly, a brief flicker of annoyance flashing across her face. If this woman is doubting her, she won't let it go unchallenged. After all, while she hasn't always been able to maintain a flawless victory-to-defeat ratio, she has never considered herself as someone willing to cede victory in a battle of reflexes. Sure, she still has yet to figure out the intricacies of combating the variety of gadgets her opponents could employ, but in a straight-up battle, this wolf rarely assumes the role of the _hunted_.

A lingering, ominous silence settled between the two of them, their eyes locked in an unspoken struggle as each size the other up once more. A patient, observant marksman and a swift-footed, silent assassin; two very opposite faces of the same deadly coin. One, an isolated light in the dark, a spectre watching from afar that culls the mark in a single shot. The other, a wild beast moving erratically, hungrily, akin to a cunning phantom that slips through the cracks, snapping the neck of its prey before even a gasp escapes. Huntresses both, but each a fearsome predator of their own, instilling chilling fear in those with the misfortune to happen upon them.

_Clap._

"...Hh!" The noise startles Kuro, coaxing a frightened sound from her. Twisting in the direction of the sound, she tenses while narrowing her eyes… "Ah." When had a new figure appeared? How did she not notice them… ah, no, she was distracted with…

"...Ah… it's you, huh." Sinon murmurs suddenly, causing Kuro to spin her head back over in her direction. What was she…? Sinon's expression was one laced with both muted shock and thinly-veiled disdain, her eyes trained on the third party. Ah, did they share some sort of history? "Why are you…?"

"Huh, so they enlisted you, too, then. Well, alright," the figure, a girl if the distinctively feminine, cool, monotone voice is anything to go by, is fairly tall, and… well, maybe Kuro needs to get her eyes checked. She's female, through and through. Clad in a brown camo-patterned shirt topped by a sleeveless forest-green vest, it pairs surprisingly well with the blue jeans and brown combat boots. After her initial gloss-over, Kuro notices some accompanying details in addition to the rest of her outfit. Namely, there are a few pouches protruding from underneath her undercoat, as well as some pads strapped around her knees, something vaguely familiar to the ones she remembers wearing when she first learned to ride a bike. And… some black fingerless gloves, stretching over the sleeves of a black undershirt she hadn't noticed before. How many layers was she _actually_ wearing? "...Anyway. You." The girl's voice cuts through Kuro's scrutiny, drawing her back from her thoughts, noticing now that she had become the newcomer's focus, "You're the third one, aren't you? They said your name was… Crow?"

Narrowing her eyes at this, Kuro shakes her head. This isn't the first time that her name is mispronounced, but it never ceases to succeed in irritating her somewhat. How difficult is it to pronounce a four-letter username? "Kuro. K-u-r-o. And you are…?"

"Kuro, is it? Got it. I'm Kyoko. Nice to meet you," it takes Kuro only an instant to notice the different tone in her voice, a contrasting friendly amiability, albeit still seemingly subdued. The girl's striking magenta eyes settle on her as she tilts her head to the side, extending a hand toward Kuro.

"Mm, the same to you, Kyoko." Accepting the girl's hand, she notices the difference between them stretches into the realm of night and day. Yes, the girl dwarfs her considerably in all areas, Kuro acknowledges with a flicker of hidden dissatisfaction. Why can't she shake this subtle feeling of inadequacy…? No, wait, she knows why. She just doesn't want to admit it. Forcing her inner gripes to the wayside, she shakes the girl's hand, reaffirming their eye contact. "Are you another of these guys' hired help, or…"

A swift motion of Kyoko's head answers Kuro's question before she finishes, causing her eyebrows to raise in surprise. Wait, so she's… "I work for the Merchants lately, so you could technically group me in with them." Kyoko seems to pause, thinking. Her lips curl up, forming a small, wry smile. "Maybe a bit less of the aggressive Russian singing, but I'm a Merchant all the same."

Ah… so this one isn't being strung along, but rather, is one of the ones doing the stringing? If viewed as such, then… "Are you here to collect us, then?"

"Yes," Kyoko answers her, emanating an aura of satisfaction at the prompt. "I'm tasked with guiding you and our other two guests. Where did the first one get off to…?" Looking past Kuro, her fluffy dark chocolate hair sways faintly as she scans over the patrons, but to no avail. "Did she leave?"

"Clarence? No. She's over at the bar." Probable, since she doubts the girl would have wandered off during the brief time since harassing her. In fact, as she moves her head to the side to check, she confirms it; the girl seems engaged in a blissful conversation between herself, that blonde, and the older guy from before. So _that's_ where they all went… Raising a finger, she motions to the trio. "Mm. You can find her right over there."

"...So, that's not a guy?" A suspicious voice rumbles from Kyoko, seeming doubtful about her word choice. What, did she think Kuro was pulling her leg?

"She's a she. She'll 'prove' it to you if you want, too." Pausing and then frowning, she adds, "...Take it from me, though; don't ask."

"Don't ask?" A confused inquiry, Kyoko's eyebrow rising.

She nods. "Don't ask. If you're underaged, especially."

"...Ooooh. So it's like that?" Clarity seems to come to Kyoko, her eyes widening. "_Actually_?"

"I didn't want to find out, since she seemed committed. So, just my advice. That's all." Yes, she didn't really want to find out whether the entire uniform would come off. Instead, she hurriedly agreed that she understood and hastily walked away, thereby dropping the matter. Fortunately. She shudders, locking the memory away once more.

"...I'll, uh, take your word for it, then," Kyoko relents, scratching her cheek. Well, she certainly was much more agreeable and friendly than most. Perhaps she could somewhat tolerate this one…

"Are you two done? Can we cut to the chase already? Some of us have better things that we could be doing." Sinon's voice cuts in from beside them, a slight impatience in her tone. Ah, Kuro forgot that she was there.

"No. Now let the adults speak," Kyoko bites back, her expression chilling as attention flicks to the sniper. The two enter a silent standoff, the sparks waging war between their eyes practically made real. What history do they have, Kuro finds herself wondering. She makes a note, considering asking later, though dismisses it. It isn't her business to pry, and she tries to stick to that; the less she knows someone, the better, after all.

Yes… she briefly forgot her conviction. Kyoko seems nice, but she, too, is a passing actor on the grander stage. At the end of the day, she's here to get this nonsense with the Merchants done, and then get out so she can start working toward fending off her impending doomsday.

"...Hey, Clarence. Get over here!" Raising her voice interrupts the two in their unspoken battle, their eye contact breaking to gaze upon her. This somewhat satisfies her as she peers back over at the bar. Seemingly, the shouting quiets down a pinch, the short jet black bob head of hair re-emerging from the crowd. Offering the girl a short, to the point beckoning motion, Kuro gestures with her eyes to the two beside her. Clarence seems to get it, smiling as she begins dislodging herself to rejoin them. Satisfied, her focus returns to Kyoko, her arms folding in front of her. "So, let's cut to the chase. Where are we going?"

This question sets the tone, it seems, as Sinon's expression evens out, while Kyoko's visage morphs into that of a perfect professional. The three of them settle into a delicate silence, a test of patience while listening to the carefree, resonating impacts of Clarence's boots against the wooden floors. Kyoko's mind appears whirring, her eyes shifting to the entrance thoughtfully. Was she weighing things out, or trying to remember where she had to lead them, or…?

"Ah, hey, 'sup! There's another cute girl here? It's my lucky day~!" Clarence chirps upon arrival, Kuro quickly ducking away from an anticipated arm attempting to casually wrap around her. She hears the girl stumble, unable to help herself from smirking as Clarence lets out a surprised sound. Serves her right.

"Now that she's here, let's stop wasting time," Sinon interjects again before Clarence can make a comment, looking even more irritated than before. "You said that we had someone to meet? Lead us to them." Sinon's attention and displeasure centers on Kyoko, scornful. "You can do that much, can you not?"

"Ooh. Did I walk in on a lover's spat?" Clarence's voice is soft as it reaches Kuro's ear, her head leaning in slightly. So, she doesn't know, either? "Or did I miss somethin'?"

Shrugging, Kuro drops her voice in response, watching the two exchange dirty looks again. "I was hoping you knew. Though, it doesn't look like a lover's spat. Just an unsettled grudge."

"...No, but maybe? They look too used to each other for it to be, well, hate, y'know? A disagreement, maybe," Clarence contemplates aloud, her finger rubbing her chin curiously. Her gaze is intense as she scrutinizes them, and Kuro feels a brief pang of respect for the girl. So, her eyes _aren't_ entirely rotten, after all… "Man, the new one looks _really_ great, doesn't she? I bet you she'd be fun."

Nevermind. She's rotten to the core. It's disappointing.

"So," she raises her voice, dismissing Clarence's comment entirely. Magenta and aquamarine flick onto her. "Whenever you two are ready, we're both fine, too."

"Ah, but, Kuro, you haven't introduced me…"

"We're both fine, too."

"Hey, don't just paint over my introduction!"

Kyoko nods. "Alright. You two, come on." Curt and to the point, she motions to the entrance. "We're going downstairs, so keep close." At once, her boots clomp against the floor, setting a brisk pace as she proceeds past Kuro.

"Two?" Clarence raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, two, if you sit around wondering," Kuro answers, trailing after Kyoko without looking back. Clarence says something, though she doesn't quite catch it, but it makes no difference as two more pairs of footfalls sound after them.

So, it's that stairwell leading down, is it? Unsurprising, she finds, as they proceed downward into the dark. Surprising, though, that it doesn't reek of alcohol or a damp scent. Is it going to be some secret bunker or some cliche nonsense along those lines? Surely, these peculiar Russians were better than that. Well, no, actually, there's no basis for that, but she hopes that they…

The material changes from wood, turning to stone as the lighting grows dim temporarily; she remembered the lights being lamp-like, incandescent, plain, but now they take on a more industrial feel, of bland, rectangular fluorescent design. Along the walls, rather than an intricate and pretty wood design, they become far colder. Stony, even; blocks made of concrete stacked a few dozen high, lined with grey pipes sprawling sporadically across the walls as they dip into various indents surely made for branching rooms and halls. Here and there, she takes note of multiple men clad in more militaristic uniforms, bearing live action weaponry that she swears she hasn't seen before. So, in summary…

It's a bunker.

How unoriginal.

"Stop making that face. It's not _that_ bad, or rather, you get used to it quickly," Kyoko's voice cuts into her thoughts as if reading them, her words and expression hinting that they were the advice of someone who may have initially thought the same. Actually, that makes her wonder…

"...When did you sign on with these So… Merchants?" A fair question, she thinks.

"Were you about to call them Soviets? They're Imperialists. Im-per-i-al-ists. The ones that like kings and crowns, not the ones that like starving," Kyoko corrects her with a wrinkled nose, as if she were a child. Irritating, though expected; she didn't pay Russian history much mind during her time in school. "But, to answer your question… a month or so, now, probably. You can ask that one over there, though. She's petty enough to have an approximate number."

"Petty? I'm not the one with an inferiority complex." Sinon's sharp voice echoes forward from behind, carrying on further ahead. What a nightmare it might be to fire off a bullet or grenade in here, she notes, filing it away for future references.

"Was that how you all viewed it? Pity. I overestimated you, it seems," Kyoko fires back, letting out a sigh containing moderate disappointment. "To think that dogs would still be so delusional while yipping for sloppy seconds. I made the right choice."

"Dogs? Sloppy seconds? Disgusting. It really was a waste, bringing you along with us. I would say that there were good moments, but there weren't any. Just a spoilt brat who couldn't tolerate someone else being better than them."

"...Ouch, it really _is_ some sorta' convoluted love story, isn't it?" Clarence comments quietly to her again, now seeming more certain. She might be right, too, though something still seemed wrong if it were a love triangle of sorts. The only concrete assessment is that it sounds as though there have been some major rifts made between the two, stemming from someone in common between them. There was definitely some sort of interpersonal love dynamic thrown in there though, if Kyoko's wording is anything to go by. Sloppy seconds? A phrase she hadn't heard in quite some time, and one that certainly painted a plausible explanation to the drama unfolding before them. Regardless, judging by the sharp tension hanging in the air as their seething hatred emanates both ways, it won't be resolved anytime soon. It's rather discomforting, ultimately.

"...So, then." Intervening, she focuses her efforts on changing the topic so that she doesn't need to listen to the two's personal issues any longer. They can discuss it behind closed doors, after all. "Where is this boss' office, and what can you say about him?"

"...Hm? Ah, did none of them…? Ah, I guess Mika and Lee wouldn't. Though, Juli didn't say anything?" Is she genuinely surprised? Kyoko turns her head to the side slightly, peering at her incredulously.

"Are _you_ able to hear over their music?" Answering her question with another question, Kuro raises an eyebrow. "Or do you have some sort of telepathic connection? I didn't know I was scouted by psychics."

"...Pff. Psychics? No. Though, Lee decided to patch in his music? You left quite an impression," the dark-brunette comments with a laugh. What was so funny about it? Was it praise, or was it mockery? She couldn't tell, and found it somewhat frustrating.

"Care to elaborate, then?" Perhaps a prompt will…

"What? No." Kyoko cuts in, short and sweet, and infuriating.

"You're just as unpleasant as them, then. Do you Merchants strive to be vague and difficult, or does it just come naturally to you?"

"If it keeps happening, are you sure you're not the one making it that way?" Magenta glimmers, her mouth minutely curled upward. Noticing this, Kuro narrows her eyes with an unimpressed scowl. "Ah, with a face like that, I hit the mark. Whoops."

"You didn't, but you truly excel in being a nuisance, after all," she responds coldly, sighing. "I had high hopes for you being normal, but it seems all of you Merchants are off in the head."

"Ah, coming from you, that must be praise. Thank you."

"It isn't. You're just as weird as the creep behind me," Kuro quickly points out, a gentle motion with her head.

"Are you calling the cutie behind me creepy? That's cold, Kuro," Clarence adds on, pretending to be blissfully ignorant. Following this, she hears a derisive snort from further behind. "Hey, don't worry, Sinonono…"

"Do _not_ call me that," Sinon growls.

Opting to tune out the rest of their ongoing banter, Kuro shifts her attention back to the bunker itself. Honestly, it had begun to seem maze like after rounding the first two corners. Was there a map of this place…? She waves her hand, though… "Are our menus… disabled?"

"Hm? Ah, yeah. It's just a precaution, don't worry. Though, it'd be nice if he stopped changing the layout every time he gets bored." Raising an eyebrow at this, Kyoko notes the same underlying meaning behind her words. Blinking twice, she follows up with, "Ah, but, we're not lost. Don't worry. I know where we're going. Hey, stop nodding your head like that. It's just around the next corner!"

Scrutinizing her, Kuro scans their surroundings, replying skeptically. "Sure, sure. And if you're wrong, then what? Do we shoot up a flare and wait for a rescue party?"

"No, because we're not lost."

"We past that corner like three times, didn't we?" Kuro inquires mockingly.

"No, you're just blind. Look at the fine details on it, all three corners were entirely different locations. Even this one, see?"

"Ah, yes. Those same recurring clipping textures are really unique."

"Clipping textures? Where? Ah, wait, I see now. I wonder if he even noticed?"

"Wait, hold on. I just thought about it. You said he's been changing the layout?"

"...Are you slow? Wait, no, that's obvious. Sorry." Kyoko coughs into her hand. "Anyway. Yeah, he changes the layout from time to time. Don't ask how or why, he doesn't answer, and he gets irritable if you press him." Unfurling her hand, she waves it dismissively, as if to wave away the matter entirely. However, isn't that actually rather concerning?

Speaking frankly, while she might not know the ins and outs of it, shouldn't freely, repeatedly terraforming like this be impossible to everyone save for Zaskar employees? But, what sort of employee would inform other players of someone's personal details, or restrict their abilities to take quests and send support tickets? It seemed unlikely at best, and by following that line of reasoning and what answer it suggested at, isn't this becoming more and more dangerous and suspicious? Did she end up in deeper waters than she already first expected? Couldn't she end up getting her account deleted for associating with these guys?

"Ah, there it is. Okay, we're here," Kyoko's voice cuts into her thoughts, bringing her newfound anxiety to the forefront. Before them is a fairly grand mahogany door with two impressive horizontally tri-color banners on either side of it. The flags, dyed from the top in black, then yellow, then white, overridden in the center by a squarish insignia depicting a hammer and sickle with a skull firmly placed between them, tower proudly over two piles of fabric bundled on the floor below them, and upon further inspection from afar, seem to be covering multiple bullet holes. Strange, and unsettling. Though, maybe that's just a decoration… "Huh? Oh, don't pay the flags on the floor any mind. They're from the previous residents, though they've been gone for quite a while."

"...Wait, is that a joke? The Glocken is a safe zone, after all, so you…" Starting uneasily, she trails off upon the swift rise of Kyoko's hand. The tall girl turns, setting her other hand on the brass knob. Swallowing hard, Kuro exhales, doing her best to lock away her rising worries. The more she thought about these people, the more she discovered a deep-rooted concern that didn't have any reliable assurances. And thus, as the door leading to the supposed source eerily swung open…

The room before her appears slowly, a stark contrast to the pub above, and the sprawling bunker below. If anything, it felt like a presidential office, but perhaps if one riddled it with a few magazines of bullets, and sculpted it in… well, it looks like the grand office of the Don. Sprawling across the length of the room is a regal carpet, something from the medieval ages, she figures, leading to an ornate desk sitting before an out-of-place glowing, beautifully-sculpted golden throne… with an old answering machine sitting on the desk's surface. As the four walk in, the door firmly shuts behind them, leaving only dim, shadowy lighting from an ornate, golden chandelier that had certainly seen better days above; the weak, flickering lights barely stretched out to even the desk a few feet from it, casting a darkness in each of the room's corners. Unfitting, given the regality of it, but Kuro dismisses this. Instead, she found herself wondering about the eerie quiet. Given that there weren't any people here to greet them, Kuro's eyes settle on the old device, her lips curling down in a deep frown. Is this how the meeting will go? Through that, she assumes? Is he operating under extreme secrecy? Were there cameras stationed throughout the room…? She warily looks over at Kyoko. "Wh…"

_Chhk. Chhk. Click._ "So, I just talk into this thing? That's it? It'll record the message and that'll be that?" A cool, even voice emanates from the machine's speakers, sounding slightly mechanical as it crackles now and then. "Well, okay. Now, _ahem_, I'll start the message, so make sure you clear it beforehand, or I'll kill you." A pause, the impact from before feeling as if had been thoroughly trampled. "Gre-Hello, Mercenaries. So, you've finally arrived. Good, you kept me waiting. I do not like waiting. But, I will let it slide… once, because I am merciful. Regardless, welcome, to the headquarters of the Merchants of Menace; the greatest men and women that the world has ever encountered. As you can see, we are quite formidable, and crossing us would be ill-advised. After all, those that do… _disappear._"

At the use of this word, Kuro cannot help the sudden chill that courses through her like lightning. While the bulk of the man's words had sounded unimpressive and his message feels like a letdown, there was something… _cold_ about the word. Real. A quick survey of the faces of the other three women beside her seems to mirror this, though Sinon in particular has gone pale. Did she recognize this voice?

"See," the machine starts again, Kuro's attention raptly returning to it. "You may not be aware of this, but the Merchants have quite a foothold here in Gun Gale. Our reach even ext_skskksk…_"

""""...""""

The message distorts, the machine emanating a few sparks before bursting into flames. Literally. Blinking, dumbfounded, Kuro watches the fire for a few moments in strange disappointment. For an eerie first impression, it's been rather anticlimactic.

Kyoko coughs, drawing her attention, as well as the focus of the other two. "That… um, wasn't meant to happen. I'm sure he's noticed by now, so, just…"

"God _damn it_, that's why we can't rely on machines to do our jobs for us." An angry voice sounds from the left, a door that she hadn't noticed due to the dark lighting swinging open as it slams against the bookcase beside it. Appearing from the darkness is a… man? If she didn't hear his voice prior to his emergence, she would have thought him a girl with how long and flowing his hair is. He seems tall, though, that assessment carries little weight from her, truthfully, but the rest of his frame is fairly scrawny. Clad in a light brown trench coat over a collared shirt and tie, he continues from the room while shaking his head, clearly irritated. "Whoever suggested it to me, I want them shot. It was sabotage, I'm sure. Complete, utter sabotage, and _no one_ crosses me."

"You were the one to suggest it. Do you want me to shoot you?" Ah, another voice comes from the darkness, though this time, there is no door-swinging to help her locate the source. Squinting while surveying the room, she catches sight of a figure who had seemingly been hidden when the door swung open. He wears an unbuttoned gunmetal-colored coat and matching pants, with a darker onyx velvet vest over a collared shirt, two straps running parallel to his arms. Some sort of holsters, she assumes, though... he took a door to the face when his compatriot emerged? Wow.

"Did I? Well, you can't shoot me. It'd be problematic, as you already know. But, that's fine, it serves as a good reminder why innovation is glitchy, despite our best efforts. Still, we need to persevere despite the risks, as that is the only way we can evolve as a race. We've made a solid step forward on this day, Cavaliere." Did his tone change after that tidbit came to his attention? "Now, with this discovery made," he pauses, sweeping the burning machine onto the floor as if it were the smallest of details. As it slams against the boards below, the man snaps his fingers in sync with the collision, and the machine disappears in a dematerializing flash of light. Biting back the urge to tell him that his parlor tricks could use some work, the man seems to consider the throne before taking a seat… in front of it? Was there a chair there? Wait, so what's the point of the...? "Let's get down to business, shall we? Cavaliere, come, don't stand there while looking so glum… Wait, no, you always look like that. Well, it doesn't matter. You're my bodyguard, after all."

"Lieutenant, actually. Unfortunately." The second man, this… Cavaliere, complies with the first man's orders, closing the distance with only a few swift strides. So, wait, the one that looks imposing is the lackey, and the one that very well may have been the inspiration behind the word _eccentric_ is the boss?

No, wait, _this_ man is the boss? The _boss_, that she keeps hearing about?

Shifting her attention back to the other three lined up beside her, Kuro takes note of the rapt focus that both Kyoko and Sinon seem to be showing the two, while Clarence appears to be sizing the two up. Did any of them have the same thoughts or reactions? Is it only her that sees this entire situation as… underwhelming?

"Well, anyway. As we have already established," the head of the Merchants begins with a touch of disinterest, "I am the leader of the Merchants here; the mastermind at the heart of the Merchants of Menace, the man with thousands upon thousands of plans. You may know of me from a plethora of places, ranging first from the…"

Is this man for real? This introduction reeks of long-winded posturing; it's the same shtick that most cliche supervillains use as they unveil their grand plan like some sort of cocky idiot. As such, after giving his words another instant of consideration before deciding that his monologue about his achievements in both science and mathematics are irrelevant to her interests, Kuro instead opts to peer about the room and check for something that better utilized her focus. After all, at least _that_ felt somewhat productive.

Turning on her heel, she hears exclamations in surprise. Glancing over at the source, Kyoko and Sinon are both eyeing her in horror. What, is she expected to just stand here like some sort of mindless drone waiting for exposition of the man's intimate details? Apart from one or two comments so far, he doesn't even seem remotely threatening, and if he hired her, she doubts he'd turn violent.

"Ah, let her be. I don't really mind. Kuro, do not wander off too far; you're just as necessary as these two are, as you know," he explains leisurely, nodding in her direction.

What, is she a dog on a leash? She has half a mind to tell him where to put his directive, but instead decides to just bob her head. "Mm, sure. Just call me once you're done with your little introduction and then we can talk business. Whoever it is, I'll get it done." With her piece said, she continues toward the bookcases, curious. How many books did he even have? They weren't exactly the most common find in the game, perhaps unsurprisingly since shooters don't usually contain extensive, avid readers, but that only served to cement the fact that the wide array on the shelves lining the walls was astoundingly impressive. What were they about, though? Leaning in to read the spines in the dark lighting, they are…

"...History books?" Muttering her uncertainty under her breath, she cannot help but display her befuddlement. They aren't even about the Glocken; they're books about various empires and nations in the real world's history! Does Zaskar even include these in this game?! No, wait, would a person even _read_ a history book in a game revolving around putting bullets in one another?!

No, wait. Rationalize this. Perhaps they're just props, Kuro tells herself. Yes, just props, since painstakingly creating an actual book would be a nonsensical waste of resources. Possible, sure, but unlikely. Decidedly accepting this interpretation, she continues on, inspecting the portraits in between the bookcases, and, well, they're nobles. Nobles, nobles, nobles, and more nobles. No Soviets with big, bushy moustaches, though, which is comforting. So, Kyoko may not be wrong, after all. Imperialists, she called them? So, like royalists, the Tsar, all that?

No gulag, then. A relief. Even with the game being, well, a game, stranger things than workcamps occurred. It really sometimes created some very concerning wonder about this game; the lack of moderation and freedom often made for a sketchy environment.

And she reminds herself once more; don't get attached to other players.

As she returns to scouring the shelves for anything noteworthy that isn't about one of the many great nations throughout time, the chattering continues behind her. Pausing her search, she lets her head fall back, listening for a moment…

"...And following this great discovery, I decided it was time to invest my newfound talents in other, more lofty goals. While Kaya…"

Nothing interesting, still. Well, that's fine. Resuming her examination of the shelves, she mindlessly glosses over most of the books before a certain name catches her eye from the long line. _The United States of America_, huh? Zaskar is an American company, too, so it's unsurprising to find a book about them here, but still, she cannot help her eyes lingering on it. What would the Japanese book say about it? She found herself exceptionally curious, reaching for…

"Kuro." Stiffening, she cannot help jumping at the low voice uttering her name. Rotating her head toward the source, she catches sight of the serious lieutenant. Cavaliere, he was called, if she recalls. Shooting her a warning glare, he makes a concise motion with his hand; a definitive signal to desist. What, she's not allowed to read, now? "If you're looking for books, go over to that shelf," his voice rumbles again, pointing toward a line of books along the wall from which his boss and he emerged from.

"Is there some sort of distinction between these?" She cannot help her curiosity, now more intrigued by the books before her than before. It was passing whimsy, but now…

"Yes. The ones I pointed you to, you can read. The ones in front of you, you cannot. Simple enough, or is your attention span smaller than your height?" His answer is brusque, reeking of rudeness. What's his problem? She pegged him for the drill sergeant type if he's looking after the weirdo still spouting his life story at the other three, but that doesn't mean that he needs to be a dick.

Feigning a yawn, she narrows her eyes on him. "What was that? Could you not speak? You'll put me to sleep."

At this, he disinterestedly snorts, offering her a dismissive motion of his head. "Just stay away from those. Only warning."

"Sure, sure. Don't motherhen me, I don't need a babysitter," she relents halfheartedly, making a small wave of her hand as if to shoo him away.

Kuro acknowledges the man as he shoots another comment at her, though tunes out the contents of it as she moseys across the room to the shelf in question. Glossing over the titles, she cannot help but sulk at the lack of American books. There's just ones focusing on the modern nations of Europe here, and much more of it pertains to the strategy and tactics employed by them than before. What, does he want her to read up on battle plans? What good would information about operating in a modern battlefield be to her, someone who only plays a modern-and-scifi gun game to make a profit? It's useless information in her case… no, wait, is it intentional mockery, then?

"...And there you have it!" Oh? Has he finished his spiel? Transferring her focus to the three, each bears a different expression, and then, the boss appears smugly satisfied. "The entire legacy up until now of yours truly, the greatest mastermind that the modern world will ever know. You may hold your applause and loving gawking until after we have covered what it is that you three will be doing. Ah, and Kyoko, you'll be going, too, of course, though you already know what you'll need to do."

At once, with a practiced, fluid motion, Kyoko draws her attention as well as the focus of the others in her standing salute. "Sir, yes sir!"

Momentarily inclining his head, the boss folds his fingers, resting his elbows on the desk. Strangely, the room settles into an anxious silence, waiting expectantly for his next outburst, but as seconds drag on into minutes, Kuro shifts uneasily. Why is he taking so long? Is he thinking? Or did he just fall asleep sitting up?

"...Alright, let's cut to the chase. We, the Merchants of Menace, are something of an illegal Faction, as you already could guess." Faction? An odd word for their mismatched group, but alright. Still, bold to mention that they're operating illegally. "Given that, a few weeks ago, we had infiltrated the databanks of various governments throughout the world… simultaneously, of course, because we're all about efficiency here… We now possess quite a wide range of national secrets that have made us a bit of a name, a bit of a reputation. See, if not for our competence in eluding people, we'd be being monitored by… what is it now, Cavaliere, fourteen nations?" His attention shifts to his lieutenant, a dark smile dancing on his lips. "See, though, of those, only a few have decided to get involved with us directly. Currently, we have some Americans, Russians and Japanese snooping around, though they're not making any headway. In fact, they haven't been able to contact us _once_, nor even meet us!"

America, Russia, Japan? Is he serious? Claiming that they're crooks on that sort of scale would make them mena… Oh, god damn it.

"So, with that little tidbit out of the way, let's cut to why _you're_ all here. Given that we've taken a liking to this game, we've decided to operate here for the time, and play a few games. Ah, wait, don't worry; Zaskar's got their hands internationally tied since this is the only place that the world can find us currently, so you won't be subjected to punishment. Hell, you might even receive some praise for interacting with world-grade terrorists! And a hell of a lot of questioning, but that's not our problem, so, well, hope you like interrogations, girls!" Throwing his head back into what could only be described as deranged, maniacal laughter, Kuro cannot help but gawk in horror at the man. Of all the things he could've done, involving her in world politics was the greatest slight.

"…Excuse me. You've dragged us into your stupid cyber-terrorism… Why? Cut to the chase. You've been irritating me a lot today, but bringing the government to my doorstep really takes the cake." Her displeasure is unabated, venomous. She made a point to stay out of the limelight, to not associate with society, and now, _this_? "Why don't we put a bullet in your heads here and now?"

The laughter stops at once, his dark eyes raptly centered on her as his head lowers. His expression doesn't change, though; in fact, it morphs into a more sinister, sneering smirk rather than a delighted smile. Well, _that's_ unsettling. "Ah, Kuro, Kuro, Kuro. You continue to impress. See, _that_ is the attitude that makes for a good Merchant! Proactive, violent, and ballsy. Just what we're all about, here!" Wait, she's playing into his expectations? How? He _expected_ her to grow angry and threaten him? "Alright, so, you wanted to know why you were brought here, why we selected you, right? Because…"

"...Because…?"

"You're going to assist the big three nations in hunting our enemies for us in parameters of our choosing, of course! A grand hunt, a glorious battle, a war beyond any other war, fought in the field of Virtual Reality!" ...What? What?! "Much like the ten thousand that were forced into participating in clearing Aincrad, _you three_, the nations you'll be assisting, and whoever else we want to involve are going to be participating in this little event, whether you like it or not!" The ten thousand… from that whole 'Death Game' fiasco? The ones that lost everything if they died? An… _interesting_ comparison. "So, with that said, see, we're taking you all to a new little area, changed up a bit and made into something _special_ in the glorious image of us Merchants. Know where that is?"

A new area…? Wait… Did he mean _that_? "...The new zone that Zaskar has held in a bottleneck since the name started showing up in rumors? The… Forlorn Mountains, was it?"

"Ha haaa! Agility builds must boost how fast you think, too!" Is that an insult or poorly-worded praise? "But, bingo! You're going to a section of the Mountains, designated, designed and crafted entirely by yours truly's hands! I'm sure you'll love it; it's North Korea! Now, with less poverty! Or was it more?" He doesn't even remember what he did? Ignoring the namedrop of a country that she knew nothing about apart from the dark history and wars surrounding it, isn't that a serious issue?

"It was, in fact, more," the bodyguard clarifies flatly, nodding his head.

"...So it's more poverty! Poverty for everyone! Fitting. Anyway! It's going to be an _actual warzone_, so I hope you've been studying up on war, or more importantly, how to disable a tank or blow up a munitions base, since you're going to be doing a lot of that!" Ah, hell. Which bookcase was it…? "Now, what else…? Ah, right! The actual _point_ behind the war. Or do you need that? Does a soldier ever need the reasons behind their superior's orders? Don't think, just do!"

"No. It's important. Tell them, or I'll shoot you." Interjecting bluntly again, Cavaliere inclines his head once more. Now, she's mildly thankful for his presence.

"...Bah! Fine. So, you're assisting those big, pesky governments in hunting for a total of fifty two important, annoying, pesky people - like North Koreans - in this area! Yes, you heard me; fifty two. Know what else has fifty two? A deck of cards!" Cards, is it…? What was the one that the blonde handed her, again…? "Can you see where I'm going with this, ladies? If you can't, we've _really_ overestimated you, and boy, wouldn't that suck!"

It was a Ten of Clubs, wasn't it? Where did she put that…

"But wait, there's more! So, while you're out hunting and fighting and doing what it is that you girls are known for, you'll be financially compensated for your hard work and gains, and paid handsomely if you capture or kill any of the fifty-two VIPs that we want buried six feet under!"

What? _Financial compensation_? _Paid handsomely_?

"So, tell me, Cavaliere. Does that cover everything?" Peering up at the lieutenant behind him, the boss flashes a carefree smile to the man who snorts.

"Most of it, yes. Your reasons haven't been provided, nor why the countries are involved in the war, but they will find both of these out eventually regardless. So, it will do… for now." His tone is softer than usual, almost as though he's actually impressed with the madman's explanation, to Kuro's mix of surprise and disappointment.

"Good enough! So, with all of that out of the way, you're all going to be deploying effective immediately. Well, two of you. One of you is going to disconnect soon since she's starving herself, but that's fine, America's used to being late to the party anyway! You two, Sinon and Clarence; you're going back upstairs to meet up with the people you're going to travel with to your designated locations. Kuro! Eat."

"Eat? I'm fi…"

* * *

_Snap._

"Wh…?!"

Her eyes open, the dim light of the room, _her_ room, greeting her. Why was she here… No, rather, where…? Hurriedly rising to a sitting position, she surveys the room, blinking in disbelief. That…

"He… logged me out? Like... _that_?"

With a snap of his fingers, she disconnects? That's… really cheesy. Impressive, but cheesy. And frustrating, since she was…

_Grrrrwwl…_

Ah, she was hungry after all. So, he was monitoring her condition? How? Or was it some cheesy, planned routine to come off… No, she sighs, shelving the mental snark. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, they fit the bill for actual cyber-terrorists with a foothold in GGO. To them, monitoring her and accessing her AmuSphere was probably nothing more than child's play. While the actual concept of cyber-terrorists had always existed, it felt so foreign, so improbable and nonsensical, but they've proved her wrong on this, too.

Yes, she had to accept that she attracted the eye of people that were far more than just troublesome. It felt so surreal, so bizarre, that it hadn't settled in until waking up like this. But, still, there wasn't a single good reason as to why. Why GGO, and why her? Why were the US, Russia, and Japan itself meeting his demands? It just seemed illogical, whimsical.

"...Ghh," she growls unhappily as her stomach racks with another pang of hunger. Clutching weakly at it, she closes her eyes, exhaling. "...Won't do any good thinking about it, I guess…"

The Merchants of Menace were entirely an enigma. That much was established.

They are also claiming to be cyber-terrorists. That was now undeniable.

They are offering large sums of money for playing their weird game. That was their claim, and finally...

They have hired her to hunt down players.

"...Not the weirdest clients, yet, but... certainly in the top three," she comments quietly to herself as she lifts the headset off of her face, setting it on the nightstand delicately before moving her fingers to the hectic mess that was her hair. Gingerly running her hands through it feels nice, finally; the sensation is strangely relaxing as her body and mind sluggishly process the day.

An actual warzone, and lucrative payment, huh? A job is a job, and at least this one sounds interesting, she figures. It might just entertain her for a while.

"...Alright… For now… Food. And, then…" Rising from her bed, Kuro nods confidently to herself.

"Merchants of Menace… Your job has been officially accepted."

* * *

**Aaaaand, done! With that, we close the first real chapter and all of the vague general plot it provides, as well as having established a bit more of the world and characters and their relations! I do apologize that it's taken this long, but, I've been repeatedly approaching it and chipping away at it as much as possible, and, well, I'm actually feeling pretty alright with it.**

**Writing in third person is something I've rarely done, and it's definitely showing, as well as trying to settle in on what Kuro's like, but I think I'll have it squared away and nailed sooner or later. Still, I hope it's not too glaring or problematic for you all!**

**With that said, I'm gonna' cut this author's note here since I've got very little to say and I'm going back to addressing my IRL stuff, but, you can expect the next bit as soon as I get to writing it to completion and edit it a bit!**

**Tainted out!~**


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